Stay Alive
by AlwaysYou16
Summary: "NO!" Draco turned to see Death Eaters closing in, restraining her. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" screamed Hermione, as she pushed past the Death Eaters. There was a moment of shocked silence, then Rita Skeeter's white face stretched into a grin.
1. Sorting

A/N: In Britain, the Ministry of Magic is seen as the Capitol to all. They hold an annual deadly game, The Hunger Games, for witches and wizards from all over the world. Twenty-four students (also known as tributes) are required to participate. This story contains characters from Harry Potter that will be involved in the plot of the first book of The Hunger Games trilogy.

*I do not own Harry Potter or Hunger Games. They belong to the brilliant J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins. Let the magic and games begin. :)

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The stiffness in the back of her neck and her aching back were irritating enough to wake her. Hermione Granger sat up in her seat slowly stretching, and looked out the window. She could see Hogwarts in the distance and knew she should be getting ready.

Hermione reached over to her left to awake her sister, who was curled up beside her, resting her head in the crook of Hermione's neck. "Lye," she whispered, "Lye, wake up. We'll be arriving soon."

Lye's eyebrows furrowed together, and she blinked her round eyes open. She sat up quickly to lean over and look outside the window at the approaching school.

"Are we-"

"Shh," Hermione shushed her, looking pointedly at the other three sleeping passengers in the compartment. "Come on." She grabbed her small hand and quietly opened the compartment door. Once they stepped out and she slid the door closed, Lye spoke again.

"Are we going to meet up with the others now?" she asked.

"Yes," said Hermione. "But you need to change first. Here, give me those." Hermione took the two books Lychorinda carried and handed her uniform. Once she was dressed properly the girls walked down the corridor, searching for three certain Gryffindors. They passed several compartments but none of them contained Harry, Ron, or Ginny.

Hermione and Lychorinda had boarded the Hogwarts express a bit late, and in doing so they'd lost sight of Harry and Ginny. Hermione had gone over to meet with the other Prefects and told Lychorinda to stay in a nearby compartment. After the meeting, she found Lychorinda in the compartment next to theirs but with three other strangers. She was slumped against the window, fast asleep with Hermione's books in her lap. Instead of patrolling the corridors with Ron, Hermione joined her and stayed with her for the rest of the journey.

Before they could find them, the train had come to a stop and everyone was filing out their compartments and crowding the corridors. Hermione dragged two trunks as she and Lye stepped off the train.

"Firs' years!" the familiar calling of Hagrid said. "Firs' years over here! Firs' years…"

She turned to Lye. "Go," she said. Hermione grabbed a cloak and wrapped it around Lychorinda's small figure. "Leave your things. You and the other first years will be going in boats, I need to find Harry and Ron."

Lychorinda looked up at her with a slight frown. "And you _still _won't tell me how it is I'll be getting sorted?"

Hermione grinned. "No, sorry. I really shouldn't. Besides, it would hardly be fair that I had to endure being so nervous while you get to wait patiently for your turn. But don't worry, Ron was only joking about the trolls. You won't have to fight any."

"What if I do something embarrassing?" asked Lye.

"You won't. Now go, I'll see you a bit." Hermione kissed the top of her head and Lye turned to join the other first years who were already climbing into the boats.

"Don't fall in!" A voice called out to her. Ron was standing next to Hermione and waving at Lychorinda. Lye glanced back at them and Hermione caught the look of worry and fear return to her face. But then she and the others sailed away, off onto the Black Lake.

Before Hermione could scold Ron, Harry had joined them. "There you are," he said. "Let's go get a carriage before they fill up."

Hermione smacked Ron's arm with her books. "Why did you have to tell her that? She doesn't even know how to swim, and you're going on about her falling in?"

"I was only kidding! She knows that, she doesn't have to be scared." Ron defended himself.

"She's frightened enough as it is! Honestly Ron, don't you remember how it was for us?"

"No."

She rolled her eyes and the three climbed into a carriage with Neville, Ginny, and Luna. Hermione's ginger cat, Crookshanks, leaped off Ginny's lap and headed to Hermione, but Ron had accidentally stomped on his tail with his large feet. Crookshanks hissed at him and Ron curled his lip in disgust.

"I could still cook you," he muttered.

Hermione did not laugh. She gave Ron an aggravated look as she pulled Crookshanks into her arms.

They rode off towards the school and quickly entered the castle, out of the cold. Luna glided off to join her House and the other five joined the rest of the Gryffindors. They sat near Dean, Lavender, and Parvati, who were all discussing the most recent students that have left Hogwarts. It was very difficult to earn permission to move away, but apparently Seamus and Padma's families had finally achieved it. Parvati explained how only one of them could leave at a time, so she let her sister Padma go first. Parvati wanted to spend one more year at Hogwarts, and then she'd be joining her sister. There were several other people this year who'd left, but everyone had settled into the Great Hall and now Professor McGonagall walked in with a long line of first years behind her.

Hermione found her sister in the middle of them, the one with the wavy blond hair who was fiddling with her robes, gazing up at the mesmerizing ceiling of the Great Hall and lighted candles floating in midair.

"So what House do you reckon she'll be sorted in?" asked Harry beside her.

Hermione shrugged, still looking at her. "It really doesn't matter to me where she'll end up as long she's happy and comfortable…. Although, I suppose I wouldn't want her sorted into Slytherin. But only because I wouldn't want her with that kind of company and influence. I don't want any reason for them to bully her about being muggle-born. It's only gotten worse since people know that You-Know-Who is back. There are people who'll do anything to stay on the safe side, and Slytherins will join the Dark Side if it means they don't have to starve."

"Hermione, Lye would never be a Slytherin. You know that. She'll be in Gryffindor, just like her sister." said Ron, and gave her a reassuring pat on her back.

"You don't know that," said Hermione, thinking of how Parvati Patil was in Gryffindor, but her twin was in Ravenclaw. She sighed. "But you're right, Ronald. If there's one House Lychorinda won't be in, it's Slytherin."

The first years all gathered up at the front of the Great Hall as Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on a stool. As it did every year, the rip near the brim opened into a mouth and it burst into a song. The song was new of course, and it went on explaining about the four Houses and its founders. At the last few lines it sang regarding the laws they must obey, and there being peace throughout all Districts. About the Dark Days not repeating (which Hermione found ridiculous since Voldemort had already returned) and that there should be no rebellions or uprisings. Everyone knew the Sorting Hat sang this because it was supposed to. Just more repetition from the Ministry. Finally it wished them all luck, including the first years, since they too were now eligible for The Hunger Games.

"_May the odds be in your favor_," the Sorting Hat finished, and the Great Hall broke out into a steady applause.

Hermione frowned and looked to see other students now had a look of unease on their faces that they were trying to hide. Hermione had been worried enough about so many other things, and though she knew she shouldn't, she always tried to put The Hunger Games out of her mind. It disgusted her and horrified her. It was the most violent thing she was forced to watch every year. The time for the reaping was drawing extremely close, and the Sorting Hat had only reminded her once again. Even if she dreaded it, Hermione wanted to get it over with. Then she could go on for another year and throw herself into her studies and do her best to earn more money.

Professor McGonagall pulled out a long list with the names of the first years and began to call them out, one by one, in alphabetical order. This went on going through the different names, the different shouts from the Sorting Hat, and the applause of each different house, until eventually….

"Granger, Lychorinda." called out Professor McGonagall.

Lye walked up in a steady pace and carefully sat on the stool. The Sorting Hat was put onto her head and Hermione saw her take a deep breath and close her eyes. She could see her small hands were clenched around the edges of the stool. The Sorting Hat did take its time, quietly processing on where Hermione's sister was destined to be. After about a minute and a half's silence, it opened its mouth wide to shout out the name of her new House.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" it shouted. And Lychorinda broke out into a relieved smile and bounced off the stool, handing the hat back to Professor McGonagall.

Hermione stood up and clapped loudly for her sister, beaming with pride. Ron had let out a low groan but he stood up to clap for Lychorinda, as did Harry, Ginny, and even Neville. Professor McGonagall took the hat from Lye and smiled at her, but Hermione thought she saw a faint look of disappointment. The professor was very fond of Hermione. Perhaps she'd been hoping to have the other Granger girl as well.

Lychorinda grinned as she walked towards the Hufflepuff table, who all welcomed her warmly. Before she sat down, she turned to wave at Hermione and the others. Hermione waved back as she herself sat once more.

Ron slumped back into his seat. "I was so bloody sure she'd be in Gryffindor." he said, disappointed.

"You're always bloody sure about everything, Ron," said Ginny, "And they hardly ever turn out the way you say."

"I thought she might be a Ravenclaw," said Harry, "She's got your brains, Hermione. Though not quite your temper."

"Anger issues," nodded Ron. Hermione whacked his arm for the second time.

The rest of the sorting continued and finished of with the last student of a surname that began with Z. Then Dumbledore stood to greet all the students and gave his welcoming speech. He went over the rules of not being about after curfew, not leaving the school grounds without permission, staying away from the Forbidden Forest, not using our wands unless allowed, and - most importantly - not disturbing or disobeying the Peacekeepers.

"I'd also like to remind you that we will be having guest from the Capitol visit us soon. The day after tomorrow we will be having the reaping to select our tributes." he added.

When he was finished with the rest of his speech he clapped his hands and on all four tables appeared their dinner. Everyone immediately dug in, even though each student was allowed only one plate. No seconds, no desserts, it was all they could afford. But at least it was an entire plate that was guaranteed. After this, the students had to earn their own food.

"I thought he'd mention something about Voldemort," murmured Harry as he filled his plate.

"I didn't think he would, not with new eyes roaming the castle." said Hermione.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, raising a quizzical brow.

Hermione bit into a chicken leg before answering. "The Peacekeepers," she said in a low voice. "Anything Dumbledore said was being heard from them. If he hinted anything that would seem disrespectful toward the Capitol, how they aren't doing enough to stop Voldemort for example, the Ministry could drag him away and even lock him up in Azkaban. Anything to keep order and have their precious Capitol rule us."

Harry's jaw clenched in anger and he sat in silence as he drank his soup.

"Are you going to eat that?" Ron pointed at the pork chop on Harry's plate. Harry passed it to him. "Thanks," he muttered and started chewing on it. "They actually have roast beef this year," he said with his mouth full. "Haven't tasted that in ages."

Hermione stared at him with a sad smile, but glanced up and shared a knowing look with Harry.

Ron was always hungry. He was always working, always tired, and always in need of more money. And at the end of the day, he goes to bed feeling hungry. Out of the three, he and his family were easily the poorest. With so many mouths to feed, and nothing is ever enough. But at least now everyone in his family was old enough to work for themselves. The only thing they needed was for Ron and Ginny to finish their time at Hogwarts, to be out of the eligibility of The Hunger Games.

Hermione would always be extremely grateful for the Weasleys. Who else would have taken in Lye when Hermione's parents had passed away?

But she did not allow the Weasleys to pay anything for neither Hermione or Lye. Hermione worked hard to keep Lye alive and fed everyday. Molly Weasley had insisted Lye stay with her until she could come to Hogwarts. She gave her a roof to stay under every night. Even then, Lye had to work to earn some money, because the money Hermione made at Hogwarts was not always enough.

But being the brightest witch of her age did help Hermione. She hoped if she could finish her education and earn enough money she could move into the Capitol. She would take Lychorinda with her, of course. Hermione hated the Capitol city, and its ignorant, obnoxious people, and the cruel Ministry who were the ones that basically staved them and all other eleven Districts to death.

As much as she hated it though, it could be her ticket to staying alive. And that was the whole point, wasn't it?

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Draco Malfoy was bored out his mind. He sat between the other Slytherins who were all muttering impatiently waiting for the food to appear. Draco was pointing his wand at a fork, practicing a simple levitation spell. In less than an hour, he'll have to turn it in, and he won't receive his wand back for a few days. He was only vaguely aware of the other Slytherins clapping now and then, as new first years came join them.

When the old man had finished his usual pointless words, the tables were lined with food and everyone quickly snatched as much as they could, slapping other hands away so they could reach a dish first. Draco filled his plate slowly, trying to make it seem as though he was used to a full meal every night. The rest of the Slytherins had already guessed the truth, though- Draco's family was now just as broke.

Lucius and Narcissa lived on the outskirts of District Twelve. They had a decent house and jobs that paid well enough. But since Lucius Malfoy had failed the Dark Lord about two months ago, the Malfoys had lost more than half their fortunes. Lucius and Narcissa couldn't have the same luxuries, and Lucius didn't have the same connections with the Ministry as he did before. But it was Draco who was deliberately suffering the most from it all. He was not allowed to live in the Capitol. He was to stay at Hogwarts and work and starve himself everyday along with the others. There were certain Peacekeepers who made sure of that.

When there was not one more bite of food left, Draco rose from his seat and walked over to meet the first years to show them towards their common room. As he walked by he passed Potter and his friends, all speaking in hushed voices. Draco's lip curled. It was Potter's fault for what had happened to his father. Draco shot Potter a filthy look before stepping around a small blond girl who was talking animatedly to Granger. Without glancing at him, Granger pulled the girl aside and Draco continued his way towards the dungeons with the Slytherin first years tailing behind him and Tracey Davis, the other Slytherin Prefect.

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Hermione tried to stuff more chicken into her small beaded bag. She wanted to finish it all now, but it would be best if she saved some for tomorrow morning.

"I didn't know you had a sister, Hermione. It'll be nice to have another bright witch to help us earn more House points." said Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff Prefect, from behind her.

"She's as brilliant as her sister. She'll be a real threat when it comes to who can earn more points." said Harry.

"I doubt that," said Lye.

Hermione turned. "Hey, little Hufflepuff!" she said, embracing her. "See? I told you everything would go fine."

Lychorinda smiled a rueful smile. "I wanted to be in Gryffindor like you. I think I could have, I think the Sorting Hat would have let me. But I don't think it would have felt right. I wanted to be sorted where I really belonged. I was _very_ close to being in Ravenclaw! But the Sorting Hat said I would be greater in Hufflepuff."

Hermione ran her fingers through the top of Lye's hair. "I was nearly sorted in Ravenclaw, too. But I was better off in Gryffindor."

"Do you think you'd still be best friends with Harry and Ron if you'd been sorted in Ravenclaw?" Lye asked.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Maybe," she said. "But you know I befriended them after a near death experience, not because I shared the same common room with them." Hermione pulled out her small beaded bag, "Here," she murmured, "You can have them for breakfast tomorrow, but don't let anyone see."

Lychorinda took the bag and hid it under her cloak. "What will we be doing tomorrow?"

"Not much. If you want dinner you have to work with other first years cleaning the kitchens. A few house-elves will be there to help. The school always needs to clean itself up before Reaping Day. Almost everyone will be working."

"Will you be hunting?" Lye asked in a low voice.

"I have to. I can't afford to sleep in." said Hermione, grimacing.

Lychorinda frowned, but the girls bid each other goodnight and walked in opposite directions to their dormitories. When Hermione had joined the other girls, she tuned out Lavender and Parvati's gossip, and tried her best to quickly fall asleep. It wasn't hard, she felt tired enough. But she disliked the fact that there wasn't another small body lying next to her, one she could watch over. No, her sister was somewhere else in the castle, lying on the cold floor by herself with other unfamiliar students.

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Draco was the first to wake in his dormitory. He climbed out of bed and changed into working clothes. Not everyone had a mattress to sleep on every night; he and Zabini did. But Draco wondered if it would be so bad to sell his mattress and sleep on the floor for the rest of the year.

Draco was almost ready when Blaise woke up. He groaned and stretched, rising up to change. The boys did not say a word to each other as they both quietly walked out of the room.

Outside the castle, there was already a girl who was breaking the rules on her first day back. She was in the Forbidden Forest, crouched beneath a bush, pointing her bow and arrow towards an oblivious deer in the distance. Her eyes narrowed as she calculated her target, then she let go of the arrow and it flew across the air, striking the deer. The animal trampled around in pain for a bit, then it toppled over on the forest ground.

Hermione drew in a breath of satisfaction, then stood to retrieve her prize.

What Hermione did everyday was illegal. She should be in bed, sleeping or reading, or in the castle working to earn herself a meal. But hunting was the best way she managed to survive. Many people knew of what she did, but would never sell her out for they depended on the game she traded with them. Even some Slytherins put aside their prejudice for the mudblood if it meant they could get their hands on something to eat. She didn't know whether the headmaster knew, but several of the Peacekeepers did. They too, could become pretty desperate for food and bought anything she offered. But it could be tricky in knowing which Peacekeepers could be trusted. They were often switched up, exchanging shifts with others from Hogsmeade. Last year had been particularly difficult to sneak around, what with Dolores Umbridge joining the school staff. Unfortunately, she would return this year, assigned by the Ministry to just keep an eye on the school, but she would not have quite the same _authority_ as she did last year.

Several hours later, Hermione walked up the grounds toward the castle. Harry had given her the Marauder's Map to sneak back in, or to sneak out to Hogsmeade where she did most of her best trading. If Hermione had her wand she could cast a disillusion charm on herself. But wands were not always allowed keep; the Peacekeepers had a room in the castle where students' wands were stored until they were required to be used during their lessons. A precaution by the Ministry so students could not rebel. If she did not have her wand then Hermione would sometimes use Harry's invisibility cloak, which was hidden in the Room of Requirement. Harry also hid his gold there, for the Capitol would take half of it for their own if they were to find out.

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Inside the castle, Draco and Blaise were headed towards their common room after a long day's work. During the summer, damage had been done to certain parts of the school. All due to some Death Eaters of course, and Draco thought it was a waste of time to fix them since Death Eaters would try to penetrate the castle once more. But work for the students wasn't meant to be worthwhile, it was mostly for torture and discipline.

Draco's mother had sent him a box full of sugar cookies that morning. He was grateful for them- a treat other students could not posses- but he didn't want them. Something about eating sugar-coated cookies here seemed wrong. They really wouldn't fill his appetite and instead he'd been craving something _meaty_.

"Hold on," Zabini muttered suddenly. Draco turned and saw Zabini walk towards Hermione Granger.

Draco knew the Gryffindor bookworm was a huntress. He hadn't always known, but he'd found out when he realized the same meat he'd been gulping down once a long time ago, was from the mudblood. Or so the other Slytherins had said. He remembered being genuinely shocked that the know-it-all, bushy-haired, goodie-goodie was behind it. That she snuck out into the Forbidden Forest almost everyday to hunt. Suddenly, the vicious punch he'd received from her in third year hadn't seemed so surprising.

Zabini was paying Granger a few sickles for a dead squirrel. Draco had tasted them before- they weren't as bad as he'd thought- but it still wasn't the best thing in the world. Still, his stomach was grumbling in a disturbing way, and before he could make himself continue down the stairs, he turned and walked straight up to Granger.

Grimacing, he held up the package in his hand. "Here," he said. "Trade you for a squirrel."

Granger looked at the box and glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"They're cookies," he grumbled, opening the box to show her. "Just received them today. Haven't had any."

Hermione was still skeptical, but the amount of cookies would be a bargain.

"Fine," she said taking them. She closed the lid and put them carefully into her satchel.

Draco had been hungry all day. All he wanted right now was to go to his dormitory and eat alone. As he and Zabini began to walk away, he heard Granger say, "Don't look _too _disgusted, Malfoy." Then he heard her retreating footsteps.

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Zabini was wearing a small smirk.

"Finally had the guts to buy something from her?" he asked, as they walked down the stairs into the dungeons.

Draco scowled. "All I did was trade some cookies I wasn't going to eat anyway."

"It takes a while to get over your pride and be able to ask something from someone of her kind." murmured Zabini, ignoring Draco. "But it gets easier. Although cookies won't be enough to fix any damage you've done to Granger. You won't win her over with things like that."

"Who said anything about trying to please Granger? If I'd known you were going to pester me with that rubbish because I traded for one of Granger's stupid squirrels I wouldn't have bothered." Draco snapped.

"Say and think what you want, Malfoy." said Zabini, settling down in one of the armchairs of the common room, as Draco stalked off.

Zabini may have been more intelligent, but he could irritate Draco as much as Crabbe, Goyle, or even Parkinson, when she was still here. Draco was only hungry. He didn't like Granger. He couldn't stand her. He knew that.

He stepped into his dormitory and shut the door. He sat on his bed and unwrapped his dinner. Draco sat alone in the room for a long time, eating Granger's stupid squirrel.

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The following morning, Hermione was changing in the bathroom when she heard the screams.

Thank goodness the other girls in the dormitory had already left, or they would have noticed that there was a certain Hufflepuff who had spent the night in their room.

Hermione stumbled out of the bathroom and found Lye thrashing around in her bed.

"Lye, Lye wake up!" she said shaking her. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay." Lye sat up in her bed, trembling uncontrollably. She was gasping for air and Hermione pulled her into her arms. "It was only a dream. Just a dream. It wasn't real." She stroked Lye's hair and rubbed her back soothingly.

"It was me," she whispered, still shuddering. Hermione immediately understood. "It was me and I couldn't do anything. There was no choice I could make."

"Shh," Hermione said again. She pulled her back and dried a few tears that had escaped her sister's eyes away with her thumb. She brushed her hair away, noticing how it stuck to her face with a faint sheen of sweat.

"It was just a dream, Lye. Your chances of being chosen are so slim they are practically impossible."

"Practically is not completely." Lye whispered.

Hermione sighed. "Listen to me, Lye." she said, taking her small face in her hands. "You won't be the one who goes into the arena. You won't be their tribute. They'll never take you."

Lye closed her eyes. She did this whenever she tried not to think of something that was bothering her. It was something Hermione noticed long ago, the way Lye would shut her eyes and furrow her light eyebrows while trying to tune out the rest of the world.

"There," murmured Hermione, pulling her back in. "It's going to be okay." She continued to stroke her hair as Lye clung to her sister. Several minutes passed when Lye's sniffles had ceased. She then craned her neck to whisper in Hermione's ear. Hermione listened and nodded.

"Alright, then. But lie back in bed." She let go of Lye and pulled the sheets over her. Once Lye was tucked in, Hermione sat on the edge of the mattress and began to sing softly.

"Can you sing the other one?" interrupted Lye, "The new one?"

"It's not finished yet, though," said Hermione, perplexed.

"That doesn't matter," murmured Lye.

Hermione was silent for a moment, as she tried to remember the lyrics to the song she and her sister had created. Then she commenced the first verse.

"_Here in the darkness, hide your fears_

_They try to catch you, they know when you're near_

_Song in the night, will ease your fright_

_Raise your wand to spark a light_

_Lumos the sky, soar as high_

_as Wingardium Leviosa allows you to fly_

_Let go of those tears, there goes the fear_

_my love, no one will hurt you here"_

She paused, thinking of other things she could say, but remembered that she was on a tight schedule today.

She leaned down and kissed Lye's forehead. "Since that's all we have right now, why don't you continue it? I have to leave soon. You stay here and sleep in." said Hermione.

Lye closed her eyes and nodded. "Are you coming back?"

Hermione shook her head ruefully. "I'm not sure. I have to go see Professor McGonagall afterwards and I'll probably just be getting ready there. Why don't you meet me there? Rest a little longer, change and have something to eat, and at 1:30 you can meet me in her office. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, closing her eyes and slowly rolling to her side. Hermione wrapped the covers around her more snugly, and patted her blond head once before she stood.

They had one mattress in their dormitory. The girls took turns every night as to who could have a bed all for herself. It was Hermione's turn, and since it was the night before Reaping Day, she told Lye she could spend the night in their dormitory. It was already late when the other girls came in last night and no one noticed the two sisters sharing the shabby mattress. Hermione didn't think the girls would tell on her that she'd brought her Hufflepuff sister to the Gryffindor tower, but she just didn't want her sister exposed. It was just an overprotective habit. Long ago she thought keeping her sister hidden would keep her safe. Perhaps that was true, but it could also make her weak. It was best if she started letting Lye off on her own.

When term would start, Lye would initiate her lessons and befriend strangers. The only thing Hermione didn't want was for Lye to endure any mudblood insults. Lye was more likable than Hermione. Not as "stuck-up" as Ron had once said. That may decrease any teasing. But she was more sensitive, in the way that she could be hurt more easily than Hermione. She could be pushed into tears with sharp words.

Hermione remembered how much it used to sting to be called a mudblood. Now it hardly bothered her. It actually helped her a bit. Any insult she was given she could easily brush off or ignore. Which is why, as strange as it sounded, she thought it would be better for Lye to be teased while growing stronger, rather than go on vulnerably.

Hermione sighed, and picked up her satchel. She walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

Everyone was busy today. Nobody would notice if Hermione was walking around with a suspicious bag but she hid it under her cloak anyway. Her first stop would be the Room of Requirement. She walked among the many other students and then inconspicuously turned toward an empty corridor. She tried to walk softly, so her footsteps wouldn't bounce off the walls and echo loudly enough to get her caught.

One great thing about the Room of Requirement (apart from already being quite spectacular ) was that Peacekeepers did not know about it. Not the ones who bought food from Hermione, not the strict ones who were dedicated to their jobs, and not the ones who could be secret Death Eaters.

As Hermione stood in front of a blank wall, she closed her eyes and focused on the room she needed. When she opened them, the door appeared and she quickly stepped inside.

She had asked for the general: The Room of Hidden Things. She walked along piles and piles of ancient objects that others had left here. She walked all the way to the back where she stashed her bow and arrows next to a large, black cabinet. Sometimes she hid them in the Forbidden Forest, but it felt safer to leave it here. She picked up Harry's invisibility cloak and was about to leave when something caught her eye.

She picked it up and help it in the air. She had seen it before, she was sure of it. But it must have been a brief glance, she hadn't actually stopped to really look at it. It was very beautiful, maybe valuable. But that wasn't why she liked it. There was something about it that seemed to symbolize something special and important to her. It couldn't be dangerous. When she asked for this room, she always asked it to exclude any objects of Dark Magic. Lye might like it, and since it seemed it had been here for quite a while, she didn't think anyone would come to take it back.

So without another thought, she stuffed it into one of her inside pockets - the one where she kept anything important close to her so it wouldn't fall off or be easily stolen- and left the room.

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Draco did not need to work today. He could be sleeping in or be in the Great Hall eating a meal. But Zabini insisted they go to Hogsmeade since they weren't often allowed. Have a few Butterbeers before showing up at the courtyard for the Reaping. To leave the school grounds though, they had to do a few tasks to be granted permission. Which is why Draco wouldn't bother. But Zabini dragged him outside, early in the morning, and now they were lining up to be given a simple chore.

As Draco waited, he saw from the corner of his eye a girl descending the stairs of the main entrance to the castle.

Granger hopped off the last few steps and continued down the grounds with a light jog. She passed several people, some of them Peacekeepers, but none of them gave her a second glance. He saw her take off her cloak, and she wore another jacket underneath. She had something else stashed underneath her cloak, and Draco saw her slung a bow and a case of arrows over her shoulders. She was far away now, closer to Hagrid's hut than to the school. He was watching her pull back her bushy brown hair and tying it at the base of her neck, when Zabini nudged him. He told him to move up the line.

When Draco glanced back, Hermione Granger had already disappeared into the woods.

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><p>.<p>

A/N: J.K. Rowling had mentioned that she would have given Hermione a younger sister but it started to get too far into the series before she could have been introduced. The sister would have been a muggle, though. Also, since Hermione's name comes from a Shakespeare play, I thought her sister's should too. I was going to name her Juliet but I thought "Lychorinda" was long and strange like "Hermione". It's from the play _Pericles _and it's pronounced Ligh-Cor-in-duh. I want her to represent Prim so I guess that's why I gave her the blond hair. I didn't want her and Hermione to _look _like sisters, except have similar eyes. Another thing, the Capitol is a city in Britain and the Ministry is in the Capitol as a building, being the most important part of it. They rule the other twelve Districts. Just wanted to define that. :)

I know things might be dragging on a bit slowly, but I really don't want to rush into the Games quite yet. I want to at least establish the relationship between Hermione and her sister, and the depressing atmosphere at Hogwarts.

Oh, and the song Hermione sings is meant to have that same slow, soft rhythm of the "Deep in the Meadow" song. Just so it's easier to hear in your head.

So anyway, thanks for reading! Review to tell what you think and have a lovely day. :)


	2. Reaping

A/N: Morning of the Reaping Day. :)

"And now the time has come to slect our tributes..."

-Effie Trinket

_*As mentioned, Harry Potter and The Hunger Games belong to J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins._

.

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><p>.<p>

"Is this real?" said Hermione incredulously. "Wait, did you steal this?"

"Always the tone of surprise . . . and accusement." said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"You mean accusation." said Hermione as she took the loaf of bread from him and split it open. She held it under her nose and gave it an appreciative sniff followed by delicate sigh.

"That old bloke who started working in the Leaky Caldron last week gave it to me." continued Ron. "The whole loaf for the rabbit I caught with my snare! Must've felt sorry for us, even wished us luck."

Hermione took out a wrapping filled with butter. "That was generous of him. The most I expected back were perhaps two slices." She smeared a portion of the butter on one half of the bread and passed it to Ron.

"Happy Hunger Games, 'Mione." He took a large bite off the bread. " And may the odds be _ever_," he said with his mouth full, "in your favor."

Hermione shook her head at Ron's accent. "You say it as perfectly wretched as that Skeeter woman." She took a small bite from her bread and chewed slowly, trying to savor every mouthful.

"Where to next?" said Ron, his mouth still stuffed.

"Just Madam Malkin's. I said I would deliver her dresses to some of the girls at school." said Hermione. "And stop speaking with your mouth food, Ronald."

The two continued down the crowded streets of Hogsmeade. Today was one of the days where the village was most _full_ of wizards and witches from all over District 12. From the outskirts, to here at the very core. Everyone bustled about, buying new outfits and gifts, having a few drinks at The Hog's Head, or having spent a few nights at the Leaky Cauldron.

Today was Reaping Day.

Which meant that today at two o'clock, two Hogwarts students would be chosen to leave to the Capitol.

They would leave, and most likely not come back.

For a Hogwarts student, and their parents as well, it was the most horrid, nerve-wracking, and dreaded day of the year.

This year, Hermione's name was written on thirty-three pieces of parchment. Thirty-three slips with Hermione's name scrawled on them. With each extra slip Hermione earned more money or meals. At her age, fifteen slips would have been reasonable. But the main reason Hermione had double the amount than what she should was Lye.

Lye had only one piece of parchment with her name written on. Just one among thousands. When Hermione was a first year, her name had been entered three times instead of just once. Every year she worked hard to keep her grades on top, while also working to feed her sister. Yes, it increased her own chances of being chosen, but if it meant less of a chance for Lye, than it was all worth it to her.

Ron had it worse. He had triple of what he should have. Forty-five slips. Forty-five Ronald Weasley's would be in the Reaping Bowl today, and this fact had haunted Hermione since Ron had told her.

But if all went well, then Hermione would be celebrating the night with her friends and her sister, thankful for another year they have been spared.

Ron sucked the butter from his sticky fingers and then tried to inconspicuously wipe them clean on his shirt (although Hermione noticed), before opening the door to Madam Malkin's shop. They stepped inside into the warmth, noticing how some of the most fortunate in the district had come this day to buy the most elegant robes Madam Malkin could offer.

Hermione spotted her quickly enough, but she didn't dare approach her just yet. She was speaking to Narcissa Malfoy, who was accompanied by another woman. She was tall and slim, and extraordinarily beautiful. Lady Zabini, perhaps? Hermione was in a hurry to get back to the castle, but she pretended she was still looking for Madam Malkin. Normally she wouldn't have been bothered by any filthy looks or disrespect from the two pureblood women, but since she was accompanied by Ron, she figured he would have a row with Mrs. Malfoy if she started anything. That would be the one thing she didn't need right now, and simply wanted to avoid the unnecessary.

It didn't matter, though. Just a minute after Hermione had spotted the women, they both turned on their heels and strode out the shop. Madam Malkin was looking flustered as she went back behind her desk and started shuffling through papers of new orders.

"Madam Malkin," said Hermione as she approached her.

She glanced up. "Oh, Hermione, thank goodness. I've had my hands full here since morning. Now just wait a moment while I bring you the packages."

She hurried off to the back of her storage room. Ron leaned against the counter and thrummed his fingers on the surface.

"Why are you doing this, again?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Because I thought she might need help."

"Mmm," hummed Ron, though now Hermione saw he was looking away, focusing on something - or someone - else in the shop.

She looked over her shoulder, following Ron's gaze and her eyes landed Lavender Brown, who was holding a frilly pink dress against her chest and giggling with her best friend, Parvati Patil. Lavender glanced to the side and caught Ron's eye. She giggled even harder and her cheeks were colored pink.

Hermione turned away, annoyance eating her up. It wasn't that she hated Lavender - granted, she'd never been too fond of her - but it always irritated her to see any moments such as these exchanged between her and Ron. She knew Lavender fancied Ron, and she may be a bit overly hyper and bubbly, but she was pretty enough. What if Ron would start becoming attracted to her?

It was then Madam Malkin returned carrying several packages, each containing a delicate, expensive dress. Ron stepped aside to let her through and she placed the pile on the counter.

"Here we are now," she said taking out a list. She explained to Hermione the different orders and who they were for. Most of them were from Slytherin and a handful from Ravenclaw. She told her that one girl from each house would be waiting outside their common rooms to retrieve the packages. She stacked more than half the packages in Ron's arms, and the rest in Hermione's. She thanked Hermione for the favor and proceeded to helping another of her customers.

"Would you like me to wait for you?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, no, no." said Madam Malkin, "You go on ahead, I'm almost finished here. Go back to the castle. I'll be heading there shortly to see Minerva."

Hermione nodded and tried to carefully open the door without dropping any of the packages. She would have asked Ron for help, but Lavender had stolen his attention again.

"Hi, Ron," said Lavender, from all the way at the back of the store.

Ron glanced back. "Hi . . . ." he seemed a bit perplexed by Lavender's recent friendly gestures.

Hermione pushed herself out of the shop, kicking the door open. Ron turned when he heard the chiming of the bells above the doorframe, and almost got slammed in the face when the door swung back. Hermione continued walking without waiting for Ron, and Lavender's laugh began to fade away.

She walked in quick strides, anxious to get back to the castle. She wanted to have enough time to meet with Lye after the deliveries. She didn't pause once to give Ron a chance to catch up. By the time he did, Hermione was already in the castle handing over the dresses to a fifth year from Ravenclaw.

"Would it have killed you to wait?" Ron asked.

Hermione turned towards the next corridor. "I'm in a bit of a hurry, Ron."

"Who are these for? Hufflepuffs?" he asked gesturing to the pile he carried.

"Slytherins. All of them, so after this we're done." said Hermione, heading to the direction of the dungeons.

"Left the best for last," Ron muttered.

Hermione ignored him, and took out the parchment with the list of names. As she approached what would be the outside of the Slytherin common room, a dark-haired beauty was ascending the stairs.

Astoria Greengrass rose to the top and did not bother to greet them. She held several pouches that jingled with pounds of Galleons. Hermione took the boxes from Ron, giving him the list. She stacked them in order, alphabetically and by year, and placed them on the ground. She took the small pouches from Astoria and Ron handed her back the list so she could check everyone off. As she checked off Astoria's name she placed her package on top.

"Pretty dress," said Ron suddenly, with a hint of a sneer in his voice.

Hermione noticed that Ron was glaring at Astoria, who was indeed wearing a very pretty dress. It was a pale lilac, and it must've cost what would keep Hermione and her sister fed for at least a week. Ron must've seen Astoria's name on the list, and Hermione could already guess he was bothered by the fact that she already had a lovely dress for herself, and she was still buying more.

Astoria picked up on his tone but kept her face impassive.

"Thank you. I'm not so fond of it, though. I needed to order a new one if I want to look my best for the Capitol." she said calmly.

Ron snorted, and Hermione glanced up at him knowing he was about to throw another rude comment.

"What are the chances of that? How many could you even have? Five? I had five when I was just a first year."

"Ron," Hermione said quietly, a warning.

But Astoria did not say anything. She neither looked offended nor angry, or even amused. She simply took the packages and placed her own pouch of Galleons in Hermione's hand. Another thing Hermione observed from the Slytherin girl. She was not repulsed by any contact from a muggle-born or blood traitor. She was indifferent to it. She had never defended them- of course she wouldn't. But still, indifferent.

"Thank you," she murmured. She did not smile, and her tone did not change. Though there was a flicker of a moment when her fair features seemed to have softened. She stared at Hermione. "Good luck to you both." She blinked, cast one last look at Ron, then turned and glided back down the stairs.

Ron stared after her as she disappeared, his face torn between irritation and a grimace. Hermione began to walk away when Ron followed in one jerky movement. She knew he was fuming.

"You shouldn't have said any of that, Ron," she scolded, as soon as they were out of anyone's earshot.

"It's bloody unfair," said Ron, and Hermione knew he was about to start one of his pointless rants. "There are gits here who barely lift a finger and everything falls in place for them. And then there are the other loads of us who are starving ourselves to death."

"That's not her fault, though." said Hermione patiently. "You can't go around throwing your anger at people like that, especially if it's misdirected. It could get you in trouble. And you can't just hate her for being more fortunate than us."

"I never said I hated the girl." grumbled Ron. "But why does it matter? Didn't you say that Greengrass girl was a _complete cow_?" He mimicked her voice at the end.

Hermione was surprised he remembered this small detail. She had said this at least a year ago, although he'd gotten it partly wrong.

"That was her sister, Daphne Greengrass. She was in our year. She's the one who moved away, remember?"

"Oh yeah, because she's _fortunate _enough to move to a better place."

Hermione sighed, knowing there would always be this bitter side to him caused by the Capitol. "Someday . . . if we keep trying, we could too."

"No." said Ron, strangely quiet. "We don't have to wait. We could do it, you and I. Run off, live someplace else."

What Hermione had implied were her plans of earning her and her sister a better life. After graduation, have decent jobs, and a place they could call a home of their own . . . . Perhaps even live in the Capitol. Not that Hermione thought the Capitol was the best place in the world, but at least it was the one place where they wouldn't have to starve.

She hadn't seen coming the idea of her and Ron running away together.

"If we weren't needed here, 'course," said Ron quickly, when Hermione had fallen silent. "My family, Lye . . . ."

"Harry," she said.

"Yeah. But I think he'd come. I think he'd want to."

"Ron," said Hermione, frowning. "Running away isn't the best option. They'd catch us-"

"They wouldn't -" he started.

"You don't know that." she said a bit more sternly. "As tempting as the idea of finding a better place sounds, it's still a ridiculous concept. Like you said, we're needed _here. _Maybe someday, we'll be forced to leave. Maybe Harry will need us. Maybe Voldemort will finally disappear. You just don't know that Ron. You can't possibly know. Now isn't the time to make these rash decisions. And, honestly, I don't think it's any safer out there more than it is here. On the contrary, I think we'd have to be even more cautious out there than in District Twelve."

He didn't say anything. He knew she wouldn't approve of any other idea involving running away, or risking Lye's life.

"It was just a thought." he mumbled. Though Hermione could tell it must have been something he'd been thinking about for a while. An idea that probably kept him awake on some nights, while everyone else was snoring, he'd mused over the possibilities . . . . And she'd immediately shot the idea down.

She let out a soft huff of air through her lips. "Well, think of this. After today, we won't have to worry about The Hunger Games for another year. Just think, that in a few weeks we'll be able to start our lessons soon!" she said brightly.

Ron laughed, jumping to a more cheerful mood. "Blimey, Hermione. Only _you'd _be looking forward to having piles of homework again, wouldn't you?"

She smiled. There was a strand of red hair hanging above his eyes. She reached up to tuck it away. "Well, I imagine everyone else would at least be content enough to simply have their wands back."

He had frozen under her touch, and Hermione quickly pulled her hand away, realizing her act had been a foolish impulse.

"Well, err," he mumbled after the sudden moment of awkwardness, "We'll have to head down to the courtyard in a bit. Should probably wash up. Err, and I should go look for Harry too."

"Right," said Hermione. "I need to see Professor McGonagall."

"Another favor for someone else?"

"No, she didn't say. No more dresses for me." She smiled.

He didn't. He didn't like that Hermione could never afford a proper dress like other girls.

She turned and started to head towards the Professor's office. "I'll see you in the courtyard," she said.

"Wear something pretty," he said flatly, and Hermione frowned when she heard his foul mood return.

As she walked to McGonagall's office, she wondered why a simple touch should make Ron uncomfortable. She hadn't meant anything by it. She was fond of Ron, though perhaps a bit too much. More than she would let herself admit.

When she reached the door, Madam Malkin had opened it before she could knock.

"Oh, there you are," McGonagall said.

"Come in," Madam Malkin smiled. "I was just leaving. Thank you Minerva, for the tea. I'll come by again next week."

"Of course," she said, rising from her seat. She stood and strode over to Madam Malkin, accompanying her out.

"And thank you again, Hermione," called out Madam Malkin, as she walked out into the hallway.

"Your welcome," she murmured, taking a seat in the office. McGonagall bid Madam Malkin goodbye, then closed the door as she left.

"Oh, you're here," said a voice coming from a small room in the back. Lye stepped out in what had been Hermione's first Reaping outfit: a delicate, white blouse and a soft, grey skirt. She grinned sheepishly, as she held her long, blond hair, which was twisted and knotted inexpertly.

Hermione laughed. "Come here," she said. She took the brush from Lye's hands and tried to gently untangle the blond locks. She took a thick strand of hair from each side of Lye's face and pulled them to the back of her head. She braided each one and tied them together, leaving the rest of her hair flowing down her back.

"What will you be wearing?" asked Lye.

"This," said McGonagall, holding Hermione's outfit.

Hermione stared at it with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Most sure. The girl who bought it only wore it perhaps once. Instead of giving it away to another, I thought it best to give it to you. I'm sure it will fit, and it would look lovely on you."

Hermione gingerly took the dress while McGonagall grabbed the brush and began to comb the loose hair cascading down Lye's back. "You may change in the room in the back." she said.

Hermione walked to the back and shut the door behind her. She shrugged out of her jacket, and pulled off her brown boots. Stripped down her pants and unbuttoned her shirt, letting them fall to the rug on the floor. She winced slightly as she yanked off the elastic band from her hair. The messy braid did not stop her hair from being bushy, but at least it had left them in separate plates which she could run her fingers through. It felt feathery against her bare shoulders. She held the dress in her hands and then slowly slid it on. The fabric was soft and silky against her skin, it hugged her body perfectly. It smelled fresh and clean. She smoothed the dress over with her hands, though there were no crinkles in sight. The only adjustment she made were buttoning the buttons in the front. She guessed whoever had owned this dress before liked to show a bit too much cleavage.

Her hair felt frizzy, and it was always seen worn down whenever she was around others. Only when she went hunting did she braid it. So she gathered strands of hair and braided them carefully. One starting on the side of her face, at her temple and being braided below her ear, still attached to her head, while going to the bottom of behind her neck. She then piled her hair and twisted it at the top of her head. The last time she'd worn her hair this way had been two years ago, when they'd had guests from two other districts for a special Yule ball. Although she'd used a potion to straighten out any bushy curls. She didn't have any pins to secure her hair and there was no mirror in the room, so she pushed open the door and stepped out to finally get a look at herself.

Lye saw her first and raised her eyebrows in awe. But she was always awed by Hermione, so Hermione didn't think she had a fair judgment.

Hermione walked over to a long mirror on the wall. Before she even asked, Professor McGonagall came and inserted several pins in her hair. Once her hair was secured, Hermione let her arms drop to her sides and stared at her reflection.

"There," said McGonagall, placing her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Lovely, just as I said." The paintings hanging on the walls of the office murmured in agreement.

The girl in the mirror wore a pale blue dress. It was a similar shade as to the one she'd worn at the Yule Ball. It reached just slightly above her knees. The dress embodied the shape of her thin waist, but was loose at the bottom. Flowing lightly around her thighs and swishing when she'd turn. The dress had very short sleeves, just a few inches below her shoulders. With a neckline that was soft U, an arch that spread from the tip of one shoulder to the other. Small, pearly buttons were lined in the front. The girls chocolate brown curls were braided and twisted at the top of the back of her head, with thin wisps framing face.

Funny now that Ron had asked her to wear something pretty.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, gazing at herself in the mirror. McGonagall squeezed her shoulder, welcoming her.

"I wish I could look like you," said Lye, who had come from the room in the back, bringing Hermione's folded clothes in her arms.

Hermione smiled. "Oh, no, I wish I could look like _you_, little Hufflepuff." she said, coming over to sit next to her and tucking a blond strand behind her ear.

"Well, I must be going. I must meet with Professor Flitwick and Sprout before the Reaping." said McGonagall. "Be sure to come downstairs in a few minutes."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you." she said again, the sincerity in her voice as genuine as the first.

Professor McGonagall gave her another of her rare smiles, then quietly closed the door behind her.

The girls were quiet for a minute, Lye was fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Hermione knew she was scared, much more than she showed. This wasn't just a sorting of houses. This was a reaping that could decide her future. It was then Hermione remembered what she'd found this morning.

"Want to see what I got for you today?" she reached for her jacket and pulled out the tiny, golden object she'd found in the Room of Requirement. It was a small, circular pin, with a carefully crafted bird in the center of it. A bird that was both Lye and Hermione's favorite, next to the phoenix. "It's a mockingjay pin." said Hermione. She held it up and the gold shined off even the minimal amount of light in the room. "As long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you." Hermione placed the pin in the palm of Lye's small hand. She brushed another strand of blond hair away from her pale face. "I promise," said Hermione, the ring of truth thick in her voice.

She wrapped her arms around her, pressing her cheek against the top of her head. She held her for as long as she could, up until she could hear other students outside walking down the corridors, out to the courtyard.

Hermione sighed. "Come on," she said, letting her go and standing up. "Let's go." She grabbed Lye's hand and together they walked out the door.

Just as Hermione turned to shut the door to McGonagall's office, she heard the paintings speak two more words to her and Lye.

The words were "good luck".

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Draco walked among hundreds of other students, into the school courtyard.

He wore a white long-sleeved, collared shirt. No tie, along with black pants and shoes that he'd done his best to polish with a rag this morning. He had tried to comb his pale blond hair as best as he could without the products he was used to. Zabini walked next to him, wearing practically the same thing, although his outfit was crisp and clean and new. Draco's muscles still felt sore from yesterday and this morning, but Zabini was right. It was worth waking up early this morning and working for a few hours to be able to go to Hogsmeade. He hadn't tasted butterbeer for what felt like ages, and he still savored the taste of it in his mouth. It had at least been enough to relax him after working with construction and building for the Capitol. He couldn't understand what the girls here complained about. All they mostly did for work was cleaning.

He remembered how last year he hadn't felt this nervous. There was the possibility he could be chosen, but his father had told him it wasn't likely. What were five slips against thousands of others? But now, Draco had more slips than what he imagined he'd ever have during his time at Hogwarts. He had seventeen slips, he had added _twelve_ more slips than the year before. Even if Zabini had lost some of his fortune, he didn't have as many slips as him.

Draco scanned the crowd of people in the courtyard. He wasn't sure if his parents were going to show up. Each year, the students all lined up at this square outside the castle. There were the large school steps that could serve as a light stage for the people of the Capitol. Draco could see several wizards all waiting to be able to cast the enchantments in the sky. Parents and families lingered on the edges, all as anxious as their children. When there wasn't any more room, the people would have to watch the Reaping from Hogsmeade. They'd have to see it through the images cast in the skies.

Draco passed several adults, but none were his mother or father. From the corner of his eye, he could see Zabini searching for his mother as well. There were some years when Zabini's mother would show up late, and some years when she wouldn't come at all. When they were younger, Draco used to laugh how Zabini might as well join Potter, who also had no one to visit him.

But since his parents were now struggling with so many other things that they probably wouldn't show, Draco would practically be eating his words.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Lye was clutching Hermione's hand so tightly that her small fingernails were creating deep marks on her skin. Their feet shuffled along the ground, heading to the wizards where they could sign in. Hermione saw Lye staring at her feet, trying to keep her face blank. They hadn't found Harry, Ron, nor Ginny, but on the way Hermione had at least spotted Mrs. Weasley and her oldest son, Bill, standing within a crowd of other adults here to see their children.

When they reached the wizards, Lye balked.

The wizards from the Capitol were all sitting behind desks, and students were lined up in front of them. They pressed the tip of their wands on a student's index finger, and the student's blood would begin to ooze out. The wizard would grab a flask and let the drops of blood spill in the tiny container. Then the student would wait a few seconds more as the wizard would retrieve and then return their wand.

Hermione saw panic in Lye's eyes. She began to take shallow breaths and her shoulders were trembling. Hermione stopped walking and then pulled Lye to the side while other students kept on passing them.

"Shh, Lye calm down." Hermione put her hands on Lye's cheeks, they felt cold and her face was pale and clammy. "It's alright, you don't have to be frightened-"

"You didn't say-"

"I know. I didn't want to make you any more nervous. But it's going to be alright. They're just going to take a small amount of blood from your finger, you'll barely even feel it."

Lye let out quiet, choked gasp. Hermione rubbed the back of her hands with her thumbs.

She remembered a long time ago, Lye had told her she'd like to be a Healer when she was older. Hermione had teased her and asked how she would handle being a Healer if she was afraid when they had to suck out any blood. She had surprised her when she answered in a serious tone, "If I have to take someone's blood, I'd be doing it to help them. Not control them."

And now wizards from the Capitol were here to make Lye's first Reaping even worse.

"It's going to alright, Lye. I promise. Now just line up with the other first years and it'll be over soon enough. I'm sorry you have to, but you need to sign in. You want them to give you back your wand, don't you? It's going to be okay, Lye. Go sign in and wait for me on the sides where the other first years are. Once I'm done, I'll come with you and we'll both walk into the courtyard together, okay?"

Hermione wasn't sure if Lye felt too uneasy to speak, but she nodded, nonetheless.

Hermione let go of her hands and Lye took a deep breath as she walked over to a quick-paced line of first years. Hermione stood in a line with unfamiliar sixth years, keeping her eyes on Lye. Her sister kept her face vacant the whole time. When it was her turn, she stuck out her arm and looked to her side at the ground as the wizard pressed his wand on her finger. Lye didn't even wince when she felt the prick, and the wizard collected her blood in the flask. He summoned Lye's wand and handed it to her.

The person standing behind Hermione nudged her. Hermione was so focused on Lye she didn't notice the wizard in front had been calling her to move up three times already. The wizard took Hermione's hand and pressed his wand on the tip of Hermione's index finger. She felt a slight burn for a second, then a sting that pricked deep into her skin. Scarlet drops slowly leaked out and a flask was pressed under them, letting the blood fall in. The wizard summoned Hermione's wand and she quickly took it. She turned to see if her sister was still in the same spot she'd been in a few seconds ago, but she wasn't. Hermione walked quickly towards that direction, and then she thought she could see a small, blond girl in the distance.

Hermione felt herself bump into a tall figure. She glanced up and saw Malfoy standing in her way. She impatiently stepped around him but when she looked over to the spot where she thought Lye had been, the blond girl had disappeared again. She cursed under her breath at Malfoy's stupid interference and making her loose sight of her sister. She kept walking and shoving through other people, but she couldn't find Lye. But it was too late anyway - the Reaping was starting.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The Capitol wizard handed Draco his wand and Draco took it. He stepped away from the desk, his fingers feeling warm as he held his wand. It was clean and well polished, probably even more than his black shoes. He had been without it for only a few days, but he didn't like it being taken away from him. Tomorrow he'd have to turn it in again, they would store it along with the other wands from purebloods- that was how they were stored, by year, name, and blood. And they wouldn't return it until the Games were finished, which could be weeks from now.

He still hadn't spotted his parents, and neither had Zabini. If he didn't see them today, he wouldn't see them until the Games were over or even until Christmas. Summer only lasted one month, after all. From near the end of June to near the end of July. August was reserved for The Hunger Games, and whatever leftover time of the summer season was left was used to work, until September first came and then term could start.

There were still students who hadn't signed in; Zabini was still waiting in line. Draco moved along to the side to wait for him, but his shoulder bumped against someone else.

He looked over and saw Hermione Granger standing before him. She appeared to be frantically looking for someone and he was blocking her way. She cast him an irritated look and stepped away from him, walking quickly towards the direction of the inner courtyard.

He looked at her retreating back for a second more, then moved along. Normally, he would have sneered at her to get out of _his _way. That her mudblood germs would contaminate him from their contact. Who was she looking for? Potter, Weasley? She was wasting her time since they were probably trying to get rid of her. Any insult. But he hadn't said anything. What did it matter? He knew his insults wouldn't affect her the same way they had when they were second years. Apart from that, she could have plenty of insults of her own to throw at him that would make more sense. He just didn't have that same energy in him to say anything to her anymore.

Zabini finally joined him, twirling his wand between his fingers. Together they walked into the main center of the courtyard, among other sixth years. But after everyone would keep filing in, the lines couldn't be maintained and everyone just spread around in a claustrophobic group. Draco stood between what he thought were seventh year Ravenclaws, and there were three first years in front of him. He knew two of them were Slytherins, the blond one who stood two feet away was unfamiliar.

He looked around, seeing adults all standing by the perimeter of the courtyard. Then there were the Peacekeepers lined up as well. He knew some of them were secret Death Eaters. His father had once told him that there were Death Eaters that worked at the Capitol and in the Ministry. Draco couldn't place any names, but he could recognize the faces. Some of them he knew, some just looked familiar.

He set his attention on the large castle steps that was a temporary stage. Teachers were lined on the sides. At the center of that stage were two stands holding a large crystal bowl each. One for the girls and the other for boys. They were filled with thousands of slips of parchment that swirled and shuffled themselves around on their own accord. Twelve of those had _Draco Malfoy_ scrawled on them.

On the top platform were four seats. One held Dumbledore, and another held Umbridge. She refused to actually teach any class at Hogwarts this year, but was here for Capitol business. That, and because she would probably enjoy seeing the faces of the two students who'd be picked for death. The third chair was being used by Rita Skeeter. Once a reporter in the Capitol, now an escort. She seemed to be applying more powder to her face (as if it wasn't startlingly white already) and sickly, bright pink lipstick. Her pea green robes shined in the daylight and around her neck were fluffy, pink feathers. Her short blond curls bounced every time she bobbed her head. The fourth chair was empty. Where a District Twelve victor should be seated, there was an absence. Rita Skeeter glanced at it and shook her head in aggravation. She leaned over and murmured in concern to Umbridge.

The clock finally rang to signify it was two in the afternoon, and everyone hushed as Dumbledore stood and the toad next to him coughed _"hem, hem"_.The Capitol wizards all raised their wands, chanting out spells, and cast them up in the air. In an instant, the skies were filled with images, almost like mirrors, that reflected off everything and everyone. Draco could see the faces of students in the courtyard flashing across the sky, the teachers and parents, the adults on the stage. He had wondered before if the spell had a special enchantment that forced everyone to watch everything the skies displayed. Whatever images were captured would be shown again later to the other districts, but for now it was live to the Capitol.

Dumbledore greeted everyone, and thanked them all for coming (even though everyone knew it was mandatory anyway) and for their courage and sacrifice they would show today. Umbridge stood, and if not for the serious circumstances, Draco would have laughed at the ridiculous height difference. Umbridge took out a role of parchment and opened it. She read about the Ministry's superiority, and how the Capitol dominated all the districts. She spoke of the uprisings, the Dark Days that caused the first Wizard War, the battle of the thirteen districts against the Capitol. The Capitol defeated twelve, and destroyed the thirteenth. Then as punishment, The Hunger Games were born.

Basically, each year two students from every district were taken away. They were called _tributes_, and participated in the brutal games for a fight to their death. The Games could take place anywhere. A scorching dessert, a freezing wasteland. Tributes were notallowed to enter the arena with their wands. Those who survive the first few days are the strongest, the cleverest. But the ones who died first are the luckiest- they don't have to put up with the torture any longer. Once the best are left to still play, their wands are returned and the _real_ competition really begins for them. After one tribute of a certain district was obliterated, there were sometimes "Replacements". But those were rare and only happened when the Capitol audience wasn't entertained enough, or if they simply craved more violence. The last tribute to stay alive would win.

This was the way the Ministry sent out their message. They were their rulers. And as if there wasn't enough torture, it was required to treat the Games as something to celebrate. Just to humiliate the districts even more. The Hunger Games were a festivity that is meat to be more important than any other sporting event, such as Quidditch. The winner of The Hunger Games received a life of fame and fortune. His or her district would be prized with gifts, while everyone else from the other districts continued to starve.

"It is both a time for repentance, and a time for thanks." finished Umbridge with a nasty grin. She coughed _"hem, hem" _once more, then sat back in her seat.

Dumbledore read out the list of names for District Twelve. Only one was still alive, and he was currently stumbling up the steps, hollering a bunch of rubbish.

Ludo Bagman staggered across the stage extremely drunk. Draco could see his bewildered face in the sky as everyone politely clapped for him. The applause seemed to confuse him, and when he slumped in his seat he reached over to give Rita Skeeter a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She barely managed to fend him off before he could, looking undignified.

Umbridge curled her lip in disgust and Dumbledore said nothing, but Draco knew everyone in the Capitol was howling with laughter in this moment. District Twelve, always the laughing stock filled with buffoons. Umbridge tried to set everyone's attention back to the actual Reaping, and she introduced Rita as the District Twelve escort.

Rita Skeeter - relieved to step away from Ludo - hopped out of her seat and trotted across to the center of the stage, in between the two stands holding the Reaping bowls. She took out her wand and pointed it against her throat, and the projections in the sky focused on her.

"Happy Hunger Games everyone!" she said, her voice loud and clear, echoing all across the courtyard. "And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" She droned on about how excited she was to be here and that she felt so _lucky _to be the one to choose the two _remarkable_ students to represent District Twelve. But Draco didn't need a sixth sense to tell she was lying. It was all bollocks and Skeeter's way to get a promotion. Sometimes he found her more pathetic and phony than Weasley's father.

And finally, the time for the drawing came. "As usual, ladies first!" said the Skeeter woman.

She bounded over to the stand holding the girls' Reaping bowl. She carefully took off her elegant glove and dug her chalky hand deep into the glass bowl. The slips of parchment were twirling and zooming around, away from her grasp, until she caught one. She pulled out the slip and the rest stopped shuffling, falling to the bottom of the bowl. She unfolded the parchment and held it close to her face.

"Lychorinda Granger," she called out.

Everyone was quiet, then there were a few angry murmurs rippling through the crowd.

_Granger? _Draco thought, _As in related to . . . _

He heard, ever so slightly, a quiet choked gasp. He looked to his right and saw the blond first year still standing just a few feet from him, alone. She had her eyes closed, as if she was trying hard to ignore something.

"Lychorinda Granger?" Skeeter called out again. "Well come on now, we haven't all day." The woman's eyes scanned the crowd, looking to see if a girl was weaving her way through the other students to get to the stage. "Don't be shy, come on up!"

Draco saw the little girl in front of him open her eyes and take in one shaky breath. She began to take a few steps but stopped suddenly to tuck in her white blouse neatly into her grey skirt. She slowly walked across Draco, and Blaise stepped back to let her through. She stepped into the free space of the courtyard, an aisle made for the tributes to walk through so everyone can see them as they walked to the stage. Her face was surprisingly calm. He saw two Peacekeepers stand on either side of the girl, guiding her to the stage. But he knew that those weren't just any Peacekeepers. He'd seen them before present in his house. He knew they were Death Eaters.

No one in the crowd said anything, and then, "NO!"

Draco turned and saw Hermione Granger, with a horrified and panicked look in her face, step out of the crowd into the free space of the wide aisle.

"Lye!" she shouted, heading towards the girl. "Lye!" She didn't even need to shove through the people, everyone immediately backed away to give her a free path. But before she could reach the girl, the Peacekeepers - Death Eaters - blocked her way. They roughly grabbed her, restraining her. They tried to push her back, not allowing her to take another step towards the blond girl.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!" she screamed desperately. Her hysterical voice echoed loudly throughout the whole courtyard as she frantically pushed past the Death Eaters.

There was a moment of shocked silence. There were several people who gasped, and others stood frozen in place, stunned. Draco could see the pained expressions on some of them. McGonagall had her hand over her mouth, tears threatening her old eyes.

Then Rita Skeeter's white face stretched into a grin. "Well, well, what have we here?" she said, her creepy face had an unpleasant glint to it. "A volunteer? Why, we haven't had one from District Twelve in ages! This is _lovely_! Although, I do believe there is a procedure in which first we must ask for volunteers after we have already selected both tributes . . . ." She looked from Dumbledore to Umbridge, unsure.

"What does it matter?" said Dumbledore. He looked at the sisters standing between the Death Eaters. There was the first year, chosen for slaughter. And there was her sister, the brightest witch of her age, sacrificing herself. "What does it matter?" he said again. "Let her come forward."

Hermione let out a huff of breath, relieved perhaps, and she ran forward to the little girl, engulfing her in her arms.

Hermione hugged Lye so tightly she felt she might break her. She lowered her lips to her sister's ear so no one could hear. "It's okay, you'll be okay," She spilled out in rushed words. "Go find Harry and Ron. Go find Ginny. Go back with them."

Lye was shaking her head fearfully before Hermione even finished. "No! No, you can't!"

Hermione pulled away and faced the stage. She started to walk towards it. Then she felt Lye's small, clammy hands grasp her arm, trying to pull her back. "No! Hermione, no! You can't go! Please! Don't do it!" She could hear the sobs breaking into her voice.

She tried to pull away her arm but Lye held on too tightly. "Let go, Lye." she said quietly. Lye didn't budge, she continued to desperately pull Hermione back. "Let go!" said Hermione harshly, and she ripped her arm away from her in one jerky movement. Hermione was never cruel to her sister. Never. But she could feel her throat clogging up, her eyes burning the way they did when she felt she was in danger of crying. She knew this moment was being cast in the sky and everyone was watching. Everyone here at Hogwarts, and more importantly, everyone in the Capitol. If they saw her cry they would think of her as weak. They would laugh at her stupidity. She didn't want that. She refused to give any reason for them to laugh or pity her.

Then Hermione felt someone was pulling Lye away from her. She turned and saw Harry had stepped in to take Lye before the Peacekeepers had to drag her away themselves. He struggled for a bit as Lye tried to break free from his arms, but she finally gave in and her tears broke out in hysteric sobs. Harry stared at Hermione with an agonized look, and he gave her hand a quick squeeze before softly saying, "Up you go, 'Mione."

Hermione nodded and watched Harry walk away carrying Lye, who was still crying in his arms, as he headed back towards Ron. She stole a look at him. He stood out in the crowd with his tall height and vivid red hair. He appeared to still be in shock, not having moved a muscle.

She felt the Peacekeepers come to stand by her sides and they guided her way towards the stage. Rita Skeeter stood on the edge of the stage, urging her to come forward. She offered a hand to help Hermione climb up the steps but she didn't acknowledge it. She knew Rita Skeeter was probably bubbling with joy in that moment. After all, Rita loved to see Hermione humiliated. They had a history of that which began two years ago. Rita placed her white hands with long, pointy fingernails on Hermione's shoulders and crossed her over to the center of the stage. She was hopping with excitement and Hermione guessed Rita wanted to take full advantage of this moment to help herself look like an excellent escort.

"Wonderful! Come along, now. Yes, stand right here. Let everyone see you…. Perfect." she said eagerly.

Draco waited quietly within the crowd and watched as Granger stood between the two stands of the Reaping bowls. Skeeter took out her wand again and said, "What is your name, dear?" She pressed her wand against Granger's throat, practically stabbing it, and waited for an answer.

Draco was honestly waiting for her to burst into tears and melt on the floor but she didn't. Her face gave nothing away. She stood there, in her light blue dress and usually-bushy hair piled on top of her head with a few wavy strands fluttering around her face. She only seemed to have swallowed once before she spoke.

"Hermione Granger." she said. Her voice was painfully steady and hauntingly dead.

"Granger? Well then, I'll bet my feathers that was your sister! Didn't want her to steal all the glory now, did you? That's the spirit of these games!" She smiled widely at the crowd and shouted, "Come on, everyone! Let's all give Hermione Granger a big, happy round of applause!"

She started to clap, which was stupid, because she was the only one. No one in the courtyard clapped. No one cheered. Not the teachers, not the parents or villagers, not even the Slytherins dared. Whether the people liked Granger or not, or if they knew her or they didn't, no one raised their hands to approve of this. The silence was deafening. It might as well have been a protest. A shout that said no one agrees. That all of this was sick and twisted and _wrong_.

And then from the other side of the courtyard Draco saw something unforeseen happen. He couldn't even see who it was- but it started with one, then another, and it was followed by dozens more. Soon almost everyone in the courtyard had joined, even some of the teachers. The people, wizards and witches, had raised their wands into the air and the tips were all illuminated by flecks of light. The younger children, the siblings of students or the ones who lived in the village and were all still too young to posses a wand, pressed their three middle fingers to their lips and then raised them in the air like everyone else.

Draco knew what they were doing. He had never performed this gesture before in his life but he knew what it meant. It was ancient and was rarely used during this time period, something only District Twelve ever did. It is a symbol that means thank you, it means good luck, it means. . . farewell.

Draco glanced back to the stage at Granger. Her face was strained and her body was rigid. Her hands were clenched into fists and he guessed she was fighting the urge to let any tears escape.

Suddenly, Ludo staggered over to where Granger stood. He put an arm around her shoulder and hollered, "Look at this! Look at this one! I like her! She's got lots of . . ." he paused as if he was trying to find a suiting word for her. "Nerve!" he finally said. "Lots of nerve and guts! More than you!" he pointed to the ones in the crowd. "More than _you_!" he shouted at the sky. But then Ludo Bagman lost his balance and he stumbled forward, falling headlong into the crowd. Skeeter and Granger did nothing to stop him and the people in the crowd hurriedly moved out the way. Ludo smacked himself right on the ground and completely blacked out.

The projections in the skies all focused on him as Peacekeepers came and levitated his body in the air. They carried him away to the very back of the courtyard, or perhaps back to the train he came in. Rita Skeeter was looking rattled as she tried to gain back everyone's focus on the stage. She waved her hands in the air trying to call everyone to order. Draco saw Granger looking a bit calmer, she was staring off into the distance and her face was blank and white as a clean page.

"Well, today is certainly playing on as quite eventful, isn't it?" said Skeeter a bit breathless. "But there is still more fun and excitement to come! It's time for us to select our lucky boy tribute!"

The crowd all became mute once again, and everyone glared at Skeeter as she trotted over to the boys Reaping bowl.

Draco was suddenly nauseous. For the past five years he hadn't felt this nervous. He had never really even felt the need to be. What if it was his name Skeeter would pull out? What if he was about to be sentenced to death? He didn't want the same fate as Granger. He had never really been safe from The Hunger Games but he was more in danger of it now than he'd ever been before.

Rita Skeeter snatched a slip of parchment and the rest stopped zooming around in the bowl. She walked back to her place on the stage and carefully opened it with her long white fingers. The crowd all held their breath, hearts pounding and blood running cold as Rita Skeeter smoothed out the parchment before reading it.

And Draco stood there fidgeting anxiously. He prayed desperately to Salazar that it would not be him, that it wouldn't be him, that it wouldn't be him... And for Merlin's sake, it wasn't him.

It was Blaise Zabini.


	3. Goodbyes

***PLEASE READ* **

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated for more than two weeks. Spring Break is over and I've been busy with school projects. :/ But anywho, I'm relieved I got it out of the way to be able to resume to the story. And regarding the previous chapter, if you were surprised at the end then that's great. J I didn't want it to be predictable. If you read The Hunger Games book, you should have a general idea of how this story will flow. There will be _some _changes, and I'll be leaving hints here and there that could foreshadow an upcoming event. :) Oh, and please read the other author note at the end of this chapter too, thanks!

*Harry Potter and Hunger Games are by J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins.

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Draco could practically feel the huff of relief from the other boys. He could _feel _the tension in the atmosphere relax all around him. But for some strange reason he couldn't fathom, he didn't.

Why was he still holding his breath when the name he'd just heard wasn't his own? He wasn't chosen. He was safe for another year. But the fact that it was Zabini shocked him in such an unexpected way he couldn't bother to feel grateful for himself.

Blaise Zabini chosen as tribute. Blaise Zabini picked for slaughter. Possibly the only person at this school that Draco could stand, and he'd just received what was equivalent to a death sentence.

He sharply turned his head to scrutinize Blaise and his own reaction. He managed to catch for just a split second when genuine surprise flickered across Blaise's solemn features. Just a twitch of his dark eyebrows raising a fraction of an inch when he'd heard his name. Then the alarm was hidden and his face shifted back to an emotionless gaze.

The people surrounding them were turning to stare at Blaise, and whispers began to travel throughout the courtyard again. Draco watched in silence as Blaise inhaled through his nose and he saw his Adam's apple move from a slow swallow. Just a clench then an unclench of his jaw and Blaise forced his feet to move. He kept his expression impassive as he maneuvered his way through the crowd, and the other students stirred clear of his path. Draco watched as the same Peacekeepers stood by Blaise's sides and walked him to the stage.

Rita Skeeter grinned excitedly as she placed her hands on Blaise's shoulders and led him to stand on Granger's right. The three faced the crowd and Skeeter placed her wand against her neck once more.

"Volunteers?" she asked. She hadn't bothered to ask last year, but with Granger's bold request she had hoped another would offer themselves. Pointless though, no one was thick enough to volunteer. Only in the very best districts would there be students who were willing to compete.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his spot. He knew of no one here that cared enough for Blaise to risk their life for him. He briefly wondered if Blaise was hoping Draco would volunteer for him. He probably wasn't. It would actually be a stupid thing to hope for, considering. It wasn't as though they were the best of mates. They had never relied on each other for anything. But as Draco stood there watching Blaise stare off into the distance like Granger, he couldn't suppress the sinking feeling in his stomach. If he was up there, he'd probably be hoping for the same thing. In a way, Draco was the only thing that could save Blaise in this moment, he was his last chance. But even at the end of this thought, he didn't do it. He chose to save himself.

Blaise stood rigid on the stage with his hands balled into fists as Rita fluttered her hand over his back. "Ah, well. With you as tribute, there's hardly any need to look for someone else more suitable! I'm sure you'll do just fine." She was right between the two tributes but she took a step back and placed her hands on their shoulders, trying to nudge them closer. "Alright, shake hands both of you!"

For the first time, both tributes turned to acknowledge each other. Granger scrutinized Blaise and he stared back, each having a look at their first opponent. Several seconds passed before either of them moved. Granger's hand twitched hesitantly, but then Blaise raised his reluctantly to shake hers. It was barely a few seconds of contact, when the dark skin met the ivory. Just contrasting fingertips slightly grasping the others carefully and then the tributes let go quickly, wary to the foreign touch.

Draco's eyes wandered from Blaise to Granger, and somehow, the pained expression in her eyes triggered an ancient memory that itched in the back of his mind.

"And now this concludes our Reaping Ceremony!" said Rita Skeeter. She babbled on for about another minute but Hermione barely heard her. All the noise was beginning to muffle around her. She wanted to risk another peek at her friends but thought better of it. Seeing the pain or tears on their faces would not help her. She needed to at least pretend she wasn't ruffled at all by this twist in her fate. Like everything else, tears could not be afforded right now.

Next thing she knew, there was a Peacekeeper's hand pressed against her back, and she heard the loud groan of the great doors opening to the main school entrance behind her. And she followed them inside with several pairs of footsteps echoing around her.

Everyone began to shuffle around in the courtyard, parents rushing over to their children. They could leave now if they want, but mostly everyone lingered to see the doors open and Peacekeepers filing out, accompanying the tributes off the school grounds to a carriage. After all, it would basically be the last time to see those two students alive in person.

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Hermione sank into a seat at the end of a table in the Great Hall as she heard the Peacekeepers slam the door shut behind her. Blaise Zabini hadn't followed her inside, she had vaguely heard him say that no one was here to say goodbye to him anyway. Perhaps he was waiting outside in the hallway, or maybe he'd followed the Professors to one of their offices.

She rested her elbows on the table and gently massaged her temples with her fingertips. When Hermione had heard Rite Skeeter call out Blaise Zabini's name, the first thing she'd felt was relief. Relief that it had not been Ron or Harry. Relief that the boy tribute was not someone else whom she considered a friend. Neville, Dean, Ernie . . . It would be so much easier if the boy tribute was someone she didn't know or someone she genuinely hated. But Blaise Zabini was not a stranger to her. He was not a friend either. He was only a Slytherin who associated with Malfoy. Still, he himself had never personally insulted before. They'd never exchanged more than a few words, which were regarding prices or trade when he'd take one of her regular squirrels. He was one of the Slytherins who gave in to hunger and put aside pride to buy something from her. It was sometimes _his_ money that allowed her to buy a meal for Lye and herself. A handful of sickles from him that would jingle once in a while in her pocket, along with the other money she'd earned. To put it bluntly, the odds were not in her favor today at all. Out of all the Slytherins that were chosen, it just had to be the one she could honestly say she didn't despise. The one she had nothing against.

And speaking of odds, how in the name of Merlin had the small slip of parchment with Lye's name written on been chosen out of all the others? Just-_how? _Everything Hermione had said that morning and various times before had been completely irrelevant. All her reassurances had been thrown out a balcony. There had been _thousands_ of slips! She and her thirty-three slips had had been overlooked just like the other girls who had tens more slips than Lye. Her sister had only obtained one. Just one slip, _one_, and it'd been selected. Hermione had checked once, twice, three times, and had personally pestered some of the officials to be _absolutely sure _that Lye's probability would be implausible. None of it had mattered in the end.

She sighed. Hopefully, Lye, Harry, or Ron would be able to come see her in a few minutes. This would most likely be the last time she'd get to see any of them, and she needed to focus on everything she had to remember to say. Lye would cry, and as much as it would upset her, Hermione had to force herself not to. Turning weepy would be the opposite of helpful. As she processed the list of reminders she needed to tell, the doors to the Great Hall opened. Hermione stood and immediately rushed over to crush her sister in her arms.

Ginny Weasley walked in followed by Blaise Zabini. He said nothing as he stalked over to the Slytherin table and sat with his back to the others. Hermione guided her sister over to the edge of the Gryffindor table and saw that McGonagall had also entered the large room. Lye was not crying yet, but it actually bothered Hermione more. It reminded her of the numbness Lye experienced when their parents had died, or the deadly silence that follows when she'd wake up from a nightmare, with the terror still lingering quietly inside her.

"They probably wouldn't have allowed me to come see you," said Ginny quietly. "but they think I'm your best friend."

"You are," said Hermione. "One of them." And she briefly let go of Lye to hug Ginny, one of the few girls Hermione could consider a genuine friend. "_Please_ tell the boys to stay out of trouble." Hermione whispered in her ear. "Someone needs to stop them from doing stupid things that will get them expelled."

Ginny nodded with no hint of any tears in her eyes, and Hermione was glad that Lye would have someone as tough as Ginny that she can look up to.

She wasted no time in telling them that Lye cannot be taking any tesserae. She explained to them, sitting on the bench with Lye on her lap and stroking her hair, that Lye alone did not require so much food. If she was careful, she could earn a meal each day. Lye would be a bright pupil, she knew she wouldn't break any rules. With a few chores everyday, she'll be able to have something to fill her stomach. Harry and Ron would see to that. And she was sure Mrs. Weasley would too. Which brought her to the actual problem. What would happen to Lye if Hermione didn't come back? Lye would have no legal guardian. Would she be allowed to live with the Weasleys until she graduated? Or would they drag her into a foster home which is the exact thing Hermione dreaded when their parents had died. Lye would waste away in there. The foster homes she'd be sent to could destroy her. McGonagall assured her she would do everything she could to make sure Lye had a proper roof to sleep under every summer. She would do her best to make Lye's staying with the Weasleys possible. And she, too, would make sure Lye always had enough to eat.

"Here," said Ginny. " Some of Mum's homemade fudge." She handed the box over and Hermione was about to shake her head and give it to Lye, tell her that Lye would need it more now, but Lye spoke before she could start.

"Mrs. Weasley already brought me one. And . . . I'll be able to have more from her later on."

Hermione didn't argue; Lye was right. Now she knew she wouldn't get to say goodbye to Mrs. Weasley at all. The small box of homemade treats would be her last from her. And she stared at Ginny trying to get her words out, tried to tell her that she wanted Mrs. Weasley to know she would always be grateful for having her these years. Hermione had to be the one taking care of things, but she had always felt blessed having Mrs. Weasley there to sometimes take care of _her_. She didn't have to say anything though; Ginny understood.

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"Draco!" a female's voice shouted.

Before he could turn he felt someone's arms embrace him. Draco shifted and calmly held her mother, who was in her usual state of frantic worry after these Reapings.

He murmured his reassurances that he was fine, that the Reaping was over and she needn't be anxious. It was a slight lie though, a part of him still felt uneasy. He looked around them, but found no one else.

"He couldn't come," said Narcissa, knowing Draco had been searching for his father. "I'm sorry Draco. He wanted to come but he really couldn't. He had . . . something to take care of. Something came up and he really needed to attend to it. But with any luck, he said that perhaps he'll be able to visit the Capitol next week. He might even be able to take you with him."

"Did Mrs. Zabini come?" demanded Draco.

"Yes, she did. She has already gone to see Blaise." Draco nodded. At least the woman had the decency to say goodbye to her son.

"Draco," started his mother, "I'm so sorry about Blaise. I know he was good friend to you -"

"He's not dead yet, mother." said Draco sharply.

"I know that," she said steadily. "I know, but it's still horrible that this happened to him."

"I'm going to go see him." said Draco suddenly. The unexpected statement surprised them both. As abrupt as it was, Draco meant it. It wasn't just that seeing Blaise was the decent thing to do, Draco wanted to see him. At least a proper goodbye was deserved.

Narcissa nodded. "I'm sure he would appreciate that. His mother had followed the teachers inside. I think you'll find him in the Great Hall."

Draco let go of his mother and told her that he'll come back to see her afterwards. After the Reaping, everyone would celebrate throughout the night for the fact that they were spared this year. These nights had consisted of a visit to Hogsmeade, a decent meal in the Great Hall, or some drinks of Butterbeer in the common room. As Draco walked into the castle, he realized he wouldn't be doing any of that. They had always included Blaise in the previous years. Obviously, this year would not.

He walked alone in the corridors as he made his way to the Great Hall, knowing it will mostly be this way from now on. Blaise Zabini was leaving, and everyone else Draco had associated with before was gone as well. Crabbe and Pansy had left last year, and Goyle was scheduled to leave soon too. Theodore Nott had left years ago, he lived in the Capitol now. There were still several Slytherins Draco spoke to, but none of them were ever his friends. What will the rest of the year carry on like? Would he start negotiating with people he couldn't even tolerate, or would he always be on his own?

Someone suddenly stepped on the back of his shoe and interrupted his thoughts.

"Sorry," a soft voice murmured. Draco turned and saw Astoria Greengrass walking behind him. Several people had already entered the castle and were now filling up the corridors. "I was going to see Blaise," spoke Astoria. She was alone, but Draco was solaced that someone else had willingly come to bid Blaise a farewell.

"So am I. Come on." He didn't wait for her as he kept on walking but she easily kept up. They reached the doors to the Great Hall and Peacekeepers were standing guard on each side. One of the doors had creaked open before the two Slytherins could ask and they swiftly passed them to walk in. A Peacekeeper stopped Astoria from entering by placing his hand on her shoulder. Draco saw her stiffen under his touch.

"Just you two?" he asked.

"Yes." answered Astoria, grudgingly moving away from his hold.

He nodded. "You have five minutes."

Draco stalked right passed them and followed her inside, the door shutting behind him. To his right, at the table farthest from him, sat Hermione Granger with the Weasley girl, McGonagall, and the blond first year who was Granger's sister. Granger was holding the small girl and calmly murmuring fast words to the other two witches. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but from what it looked like it almost seemed as if she was giving them directions.

To his left he saw Blaise sitting alone at the Slytherin table. His back to the others, he started when Astoria practically jumped on him when she'd hugged him from behind. He turned with surprise as he enveloped her in his arms and glanced at Draco above her shoulder with an arched eyebrow. Draco strode over and sat beside the two. Now that he was here, he was uncertain what to say. Astoria let go of Blaise, slightly pink in the face and stared at Blaise's feet. Draco gave him a knowing look. He remembered how Blaise had once told him he thought Astoria might fancy Draco. He had smirked and said he'd always thought Astoria secretly fancied Blaise. Apparently, he was closer to being right.

"Did your mother come see you?" asked Astoria.

"She actually saw me in the entrance hall without the Peacekeepers' permission. They let her speak with me and left us there as they brought Granger in here. But she left by the time they came back."

"What'd she say?" asked Draco. He knew the question might sound personal, but Blaise and his mother weren't close. He was simply asking to know if she had actually given any concern over the situation.

"Not much. What she thought she should say." He was quiet for a moment, and Draco guessed he was debating if he should share whatever else his mother had told him. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "You know what, though?" he said quietly. "A second before she left, as if to make me feel better, she said we might have a victor for District Twelve this year. But she wasn't referring to me."

"Of course she was," said Astoria in a clipped tone. "Why wouldn't she?"

"She said 'She's a protector, a fighter, that one. She'll stand a chance against the others. She'll survive.' _She._"

Astoria's eyes widened and then her fair face contorted into a rare scowl. She looked over her shoulder and glanced at Granger, who was still speaking quietly to the witches and holding her sister. Astoria sighed, not bothering to say something of comfort, knowing Blaise was saying the truth.

Draco couldn't find himself to actually believe that. He shook his head. "Your mother doesn't even know who Granger is. Why would she even say that?"

Blaise brushed off something that was stuck on Astoria's shoulder. "She saw Granger volunteer. She must've been impressed."

"Probably wouldn't have said that if she knew her blood status," muttered Draco, mostly to himself.

"That doesn't matter. I still can't believe she said that to you." Astoria said tartly. "You're her _son, _what mother would -"

"Astoria," Draco cut her off. Her small mouth snapped shut with an audible sound. She realized she was about to say something that would bother Blaise even more and she ducked her head, resuming to stare at Blaise's feet, slightly embarrassed.

Blaise's lips twitched. "It's all right, Astoria. Like you said, it doesn't matter." He patted her back lightly and left his arm there.

She shifted in her seat as she pulled out an object from her cloak. "I bought this in Hogsmeade the other day." She held out a golden chain with a golden locket attached to it. "A man had been selling all these artifacts and I ended up buying this from him. It's just a locket, it doesn't open, but I thought it looked nice. It even has an S carved into it. And, well, I thought you might like to take it with you. If your mother hasn't already given you a token, that is." she finished quickly.

Blaise held the golden locket in his hand for a second and then stuffed it in his pocket. If Peacekeepers saw it, they might question him about it or confiscate it before he was even on the train. "She didn't." He gave Astoria's shoulders a light squeeze, "Thank you," he murmured.

They sat in silence for a bit, what else could they say? Ever since Astoria's sister had moved away, Astoria had kept to herself more than usual. Blaise was one of the few who actually spoke to her like he cared. Naturally, she had developed a soft spot for him. As for Draco, he was the one who'd accompany Blaise, and Blaise had always kept Draco company.

He'd really been surprised that the two showed up. He hadn't expected anyone. Astoria had always been considerate and kind. He needed to ask Draco that he watch over her, make sure she wasn't upset or alone. And he'd ask the same from Astoria for Draco. Out of the two, Draco's visit was the most unexpected. Perhaps they really had been friends all this time.

Across the room, Hermione was racking her brain for something else to say. She had told them everything important that was to be reminded, but she felt as though she hadn't said anything they already knew. Anything she felt she actually _needed_ to say. But what was the point of trying to say something comforting? Lye was eleven, but she wasn't stupid. She must know that the chances of Hermione winning were very slim. And if Hermione stated that out loud, Lye would come up with some retort about how Hermione said the same thing to her this morning about her being chosen at the Reaping. And just look at how that turned out.

"You can't worry about me," said Lye suddenly. "You need to take care of yourself. I'll be alright, but you need to stay focused. Fretting over me won't help you at all, Hermione."

"Your sister is right." said McGonagall. "She'll be fine. We will all make sure of that. And you're a clever witch, Ms. Granger. Don't count yourself out of the Games before you've even started."

"I wasn't-"

"Well, it sounds like it." Ginny cut her off. "Giving us a long list of things to do for you as if you won't come back. We _know _all of that already. But you can't just-"

"I'm only telling you in case I don't return," said Hermione fiercely. "Which is a good chance-"

"Promise me you won't give up," said Lye abruptly. "Promise me, please. That no matter how awful everything gets, you'll do your very best come home. Please."

Hermione looked at her, and now she could see her sister blinking tears away rapidly. She sighed and held her face in her hands and stared into her brown eyes. "I wouldn't give up even if you're making me promise. But if it makes you feel better, then I promise I'll try my hardest. I won't give up, I swear." She kissed her forehead.

Lye sniffed and held out her small hand. In her palm was the Phoenix pin Hermione had given to her that morning. "Take it," she croaked.

Hermione felt her throat tighten, but she pocketed the small pin and wrapped her arms around Lye as she enveloped her arms around Hermione's neck. She craned her neck to her ear. "I know what you're thinking," Lye whispered. Her voice had a faint broken, crack to it. "But I believe you can do this. You're strong and clever. I really believe you can win."

Hermione said nothing. She had already promised she would try. But she knew what she was going up against. She couldn't bring herself to encourage more hope from Lye that could easily be crushed on her first day in the arena. And before Hermione could tell her something worthwhile, like how much she loved her, the Peacekeepers came barging in to drag them away.

"All right, time's up," one of them said harshly. Hermione glanced over towards the Slytherin table as she stood up.

Across the room, Astoria let out a soft gasp. Her eyes started to swim but she quickly suppressed them as she threw herself in Blaise's arms one last time. She even boldly pecked his cheek and he ruffled her hair after he murmured something in her ear. Draco drew in a slow breath. He hadn't said much, and now there was no time left to say anything else. He hesitantly stuck out his arm. Blaise raised a brow again but didn't pause to shake Draco's hand.

"Good luck," Draco uttered out.

Blaise nodded. "Thanks," he unexpectedly reached out to give a somewhat pat or one-armed hug to Draco. But he had moved closer to quickly mutter something. "Keep an eye on her. Make sure she's alright." he said in a low voice. He inclined his head towards Astoria and Draco nodded.

A few Peacekeepers had come to stand by them and were already guiding them outside. But they sharply turned their heads when they heard the loud, frantic cries across the room.

"No! _NO!" _screamed the small first year, who was desperately clinging onto her sister.

Granger's face was tightly composed as she gently tried to prod off her sister's hold. "Shh, Lye. It's alright-"

The little girl screamed as a Peacekeeper grabbed her arms and forced her out of the room. He dragged her out of the door and her loud wails threatened and bounced off the walls. McGonagall held her hand to her face as if to muffle any of her own cries and she walked out the room with the Weasley girl rushing out and trying to rip the little girl away from the Peacekeeper. She hoisted her up carefully, and held her as the girl sobbed into her shoulder. The Slytherins quietly followed them out.

Suddenly, Draco felt someone's presence brush by, and a cloak was whished away, revealing Potter and Weasley as they quickly sneaked past them. A soft "ouch" from Astoria made Draco stop and he grabbed her arm to steady her, as Weasley had just roughly bumped into her and stepped on her foot. He was about to snarl something at him but the double doors of the Great Hall had shut closed again, with Granger still inside. But before they'd swung completely closed, he'd caught one last look at Granger's face. And the memory from before flickered in a small part of his brain again, but he quickly shoved it aside, blocked it, and focused on the number of Astoria's steady footsteps as they retreated. He glared at the back of her head, which was still ruffled from when Blaise had mussed her hair.

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Lye had already been ripped away from Hermione and it was time to leave. She should have proceeded to following the others out but the distressing pulling of her heart forced her to linger inside the Great Hall. What was she still doing here? There was no point in waiting, in hoping someone else could possibly show up. They'd be breaking the rules; they'd be risking themselves getting in trouble. Which is why a part of her had told her to stay and wait just a little longer. Sneaking around is one of the mischiefs they did best. They would come. They would.

And she was right, of course. She didn't have to wait more than a few seconds before the double doors had swung back to close again, and two boys had managed to slip inside just in time. She hadn't managed to spill any words out before they had engulfed her in their arms. She could hear them breathing heavily, and she guessed they had to run to get here in time. She braced her arms on each of their shoulder blades and sighed in relief, grateful that she was given the chance to see them both.

"I'm alright," she breathed out. "Really, I am."

"We know." mumbled Ron into her bushy hair. "But we still had to come see you."

Harry pulled out of their tight hug. "You're allowed to take something with you- take my cloak." He shoved the invisible fabric in her hand but Hermione handed it back, shaking her head.

"They won't allow it. And I can't take your cloak, Harry, you need it more than I ever will. What else will be there to save you from any trouble?" she said, tugging her lips and attempting a small smile.

"You," said Harry forcefully. "You're coming back, Hermione. You're not leaving us forever."

She sighed. She had deliberately avoided this type of talk with the others. But she knew Harry and Ron would approach the subject of violence she'd be involved in. "I appreciate your confidence in me, but you shouldn't assume that I'll make it back-"

"And you can't assume that you'll die in this game." gritted out Ron. "That's complete bollocks! You aren't the brightest witch of your age for nothing, Hermione. You're the smartest person we know. And you know how to survive without your wand. There are other tributes who never stand a chance because they don't know that. You can hunt. With a bow and arrow, you can knock down loads of tributes-"

"It's different, Ron. It's not just beating everyone in an exam or shooting some squirrels and rabbits in the Forbidden Forest. You have to _kill_ people."

"You don't have to blow up everyone who gets in your way." said Harry. "You can outsmart them all. You don't have to become a murderer."

"Yeah, how do you think the three of us have managed to get out of things for the past five years?" inquired Ron. "And that too. These past five years, you've been through things others haven't."

"And like Ron said, if you have to, a bow and arrow can-"

"They don't always have bows, Harry." interrupted Hermione. "I can only work with what I'll have."

"Then make one," said Harry. "You've made one before, haven't you?"

She nodded. "It's the spare one I've made that is in the Room of Requirement. All the way in the back by that black cabinet, Harry. And the one my dad gave me is in my cache in the woods. I left it there this morning, Ron knows where it is. You can both use them to collect any more game for yourselves."

"Which won't be long. There's no point in ruining one, trying to use it, if you'll be coming back anyway-"

"There are twenty-four of us, Harry. And only one will win."

"Yeah, there will." said Ron, placing his hands on her stiff shoulders. "And it's gonna be you."

Hermione sighed. She really felt touched by the amount of faith they had in her. But what would they do if they saw her being slaughtered? If they watched her in the projections in the sky, dying by the hands of another student? It would break them, more than they already were. Her death would cause a fierce anger and hatred inside them that might never leave them. She had seen them both in horrible states before- Harry had felt outraged all the time last year. It wouldn't be right to embolden any more hope that could be effortlessly shattered. She said nothing though, Harry and Ron both seemed so stubbornly sure she could win. As if she stood a chance.

"We'll take care of her, Hermione." said Ron suddenly, referring to Lye. "Hell, I'll even make sure Crookshanks doesn't starve either. I promise not to cook him."

She smiled slightly. "Thank you. I know you'll both watch over her. And I-"

The doors banged open, startling the three, and the Peacekeepers came barging in again. "What are you still doing here?" One of them demanded. "They're waiting for you outside!"

The boys turned their backs on them, embracing Hermione one final time. There was no need to remind them of anything. What was necessary had already been told, but she still felt that burning need to tell them so much more. She just wanted to tell them personally, and Ginny would warn them again later, trying to get the message dented into their skulls.

She briefly pecked them each on the cheek, kisses too rushed to cause the boys' ears to turn red. "Please, _please _take care of yourselves. I'm counting on you with Lye, but I can't stand thinking something terrible happening to you two-"

"Blimey, 'Mione, calm down. Nothing will happen-"

"Everything's going to be okay-"

"Don't worry about us-"

"Didn't you three hear?" the Peacekeeper shouted, cutting off Ron. "Time's _up_! Now get outside, everyone's waiting!"

Harry asked for more time but they didn't bother answering him as they yanked the boys away from Hermione. The last contact Hermione felt was Ron's fingertips being parted from hers as a Peacekeeper roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her out into the entrance hall. She craned her neck and caught Ron's eye. His face determined as he stared at her over the Peacekeeper's shoulder, who started shoving him back.

"I love you!" Hermione called. She twisted in the Peacekeeper's arms to glance at Harry. "I love you both!"

"We know! We'll see you soon-"

"Hermione, I-"

But whatever Ron had wanted to say, Hermione never found out.

It was customary for the people of District Twelve to "cheer" for the tributes as they walked off the school grounds. It was sick, really. Clapping for two students on their way to a repulsive death. So when the Peacekeepers brought Hermione to the main entrance, she stood beside Blaise and was welcomed into a steady applause from the people in the courtyard when they opened the double doors.

She pulled in a long breath to help her compose herself, then the sunlight hit her face. The first thing she saw was her and Blaise's reflections cast onto the sky. Their expressions were almost identical. The only difference was that Blaise's blank face had a faint shadow of coldness, whereas Hermione showed no emotion at all. They could have been bored for all anyone could tell.

There was a clear path in front of them. A bit wider than the aisle made in the Reaping Ceremony, with the crowd carefully standing on the sides. Rita Skeeter descended the large steps of the castle with Blaise and Hermione slowly following her. Several Peacekeepers were lined behind them as they made their was through, and then the crowd gradually broke into a steady applause. It felt so tense and serious, the clapping loud and hard. As if people were deliberately clapping this way to irritate the present wizards from the Capitol. And to Hermione, the people's applause sent out a message of gratitude and admiration.

It all started to muffle out again though. Like when there was a celebration in the Gryffindor common room after a successful Quidditch match and Hermione tuned out everyone's loud conversations as she studied. She barely noticed as they all approached a carriage at the edge of the school. The ones used for students to bring them from the Hogwarts Express right into the school grounds. They would make a simple round through the village, just go through Hogsmeade once to show the tributes off to the other people of the district, and then back around to the station for the waiting train. Hermione climbed into the carriage first, and then Rita and Blaise. As the carriage steered through Hogsmeade, Rita started gushing about all the luxuries Hermione and Blaise would be experiencing at the Capitol. She blabbed on as Hermione stared out the window, getting one last look at home. Now that the Capitol wizards and tributes were leaving, everyone slowly began to shift back into their regular routines. Adults were all bustling about the shops, discussing the events of the Reaping. But it was still difficult to ignore the photographers that trailed behind the carriage, or the projections in the sky, which were trying to capture every movement of the tributes. Rita seemed to be deliberately talking more to Blaise than Hermione. Her animated chatter was being ignored, though. She sat between them, not acknowledging the fact that both the tributes were looking away, out the windows. Her hands fluttered in the air, and she rambled on about how the Capitol did not have any filthy roads that damaged shoes like the dirt everyone walked on around here. Blaise threw her a cold look but she easily brushed it off.

The ride had been quicker than Hermione expected. All too soon they were mounting off the carriage and waiting just outside the train. Photographers had all scrambled around them, absorbing Blaise and Hermione with their flashy cameras. They asked several questions, most seemed directed to Hermione but she completely ignored them. Rita grinned as she stood between them, talking up to the group. Blaise and Hermione stood rigid on the spot, Blaise kept himself looking calm but Hermione's face started to show some of her anger and disgust. Rita placed her arm around her shoulders and laughed as she answered a photographer's question for her. Finally, the train door behind Hermione slid open, granting them permission to walk in. Hermione rudely shrugged off Rita's arm as she marched into the train with Blaise striding in behind her. The photographer's continued to shout questions but their voices were cut off as Rita Skeeter entered the train and the door slid close.

The train was much larger than the Hogwarts Express. Just walking in felt like suddenly standing in a luxurious living room. Large arm chairs were placed in the center of the room with a fine coffee table in between. The temperature in here felt just right, and Hermione could see a hallway towards the back of this room. It seemed to lead somewhere brighter, and a delicious smell floated from there to here, filling this room with a warm, tempting taste of food that made Hermione's mouth water. It was only a few seconds before the train departed. The speed was immediate, it was advanced in the way that didn't take a minute to sluggishly start moving. The train took off lightly despite its rapid speed.

Suddenly, she felt long sharp nails digging into her arm. Rita roughly jerked Hermione around to face her. Her face had lost all cheeriness and excitement, replaced with anger and resentment.

"All right, now you listen here, Ms. Prissy," she snarled, "Your behavior outside was completely inappropriate. I don't care what you think you're allowed to act like at school, but you're going to start to learn some manners and behave like you weren't raised by a pack of werewolves. The way you display your presence matters in the Capitol, and _no one _will accept you if you behave like a cranky hag. You will _not_ ruin this! You've made me lose my job once, I won't let you do that again!"

Hermione yanked her arm away from Rita's grasp. "You have no right in telling me how to act for you," she said acidly. "And you think I _want_ them to accept me? I couldn't care less-"

"It doesn't matter if you want them to!" said Rita, her voice rising with frustration. "The point is that you'll _need_ them to! No one will want to be your sponsor if you ignore them and act like you hate them!"

"I _do_ hate them!" shouted Hermione, a fraction of her anger lashing out. "Of course I do, I hate all of you! Are you assuming this is a field trip for me? That I've been given this incredible opportunity and I'm just being ungrateful-"

"Well, how do you think _I_ feel about all of this?" griped Rita Skeeter, her piercing eyes flashing behind her spectacles. "The boy is at least decent enough," she briefly pointed to Blaise, who was still standing behind the two ladies, watching them with uncertainty. "But _you_? Out of all the girls I could've chosen, it just had to be you! No, it wasn't even you. I hadn't picked you at all, but you still managed to weasel into the situation." Hermione slightly flinched when she heard the word "weasel". She hated it when others used it, and it stung now as it strongly reminded her of Ron. She turned away from Rita's unpleasant face and glared out the window, watching the surroundings from outside zooming by in blurry images.

"Do you think I _want_ you to be the tribute I'll be forced to escort?" continued Rita. "Are you deliberately trying to ruin all of my careers? I would have been fine with that other girl I'd originally chosen, but _no_! You just had to step in, didn't you? Anyone would be better than you. That girl is more preferable, even if she _is_ just a simple first year by the looks of it-"

Hermione whipped around. "Don't you _dare_ judge Lye!" she yelled. "She's ten times more brilliant and clever than you are-"

"Then perhaps you should have let her compete!" shrieked Rita. "She'd be better at this than you are! At least people could've learned to like _her_. You're a helpless brat-"

"And what are you? How could I even have a chance if I don't even have a proper escort? You're-"

"_Shut up!"_

The two ladies and Blaise started as they twisted around.

Ludo Bagman was leaning against the wall next to the hallway. He held an ice pack pressed against his forehead and scowled as he studied the others with creasy eyes. Then he shrugged off the wall and sluggishly walked towards the middle of the room where the others were standing.

"You know," he said slowly, his voice dragging with a slur to it. Still drunk, maybe. Ludo pulled the ice pack away from his face and fingered it in his palms for a bit. He said nothing for several long seconds and Hermione thought he'd suddenly forgotten what he was about to say, but he lifted his eyes to meet hers and spoke again. "Usually, I have to put out the flames between my two tributes. Not the girl tribute and the escort, who act like they want nothing more than to _Cruciatus _the other."

"This does not concern you, Ludo." snapped Rita. "Stay out of this-"

"Actually, it does concern me, Rita." muttered Ludo. "I'm the one who has to collaborate with you and mentor her. And I'm not gonna spend the next few days listening you two jump at each other's throats."

"You don't understand, Ludo." said Rita impatiently. "_This_ is the girl whose lost me my job as a reporter in the Capitol a few years ago. She's the reason I've been downgraded to this district's escort-"

"If you hadn't been sneaking around and spreading false stories, you wouldn't have lost your job." retorted Hermione.

"Stop interrupting each other," said Ludo, glaring at Hermione. "You're gonna have to learn how to hold your tongue fast if you don't want things to be any harder for you than what they already will be. And I don't like the fact that _you're_ the reason I've had to work with this woman."

Hermione glowered and Rita looked outraged by Ludo's comment but he continued on without giving them a chance to speak. "You're both going to get over any pathetic issues you've had in the past and learn to tolerate each other. I don't care if you've humiliated each other or gotten the other one sacked. The escort here wants a promotion, and the girl tribute wants to prepare for the Games. Neither of you will get what you want by acting like this. So both of you will to learn to stand each other and cooperate! Understood?"

It was actually a bit difficult to take him seriously in the state he was in. His hair shaggy and uncombed, his clothes sloppy and crinkly, his puffy eyes, stubby, hairy chin, and slurry voice. He came out as more grumpy than extremely furious. As if the presence of the two ladies irritated him more than anything. But he had a fair point. Hermione might have the worst escort, but through Rita's eyes, she genuinely must've seemed as the worst tribute. She would need all the help she could get. And if part of the price was ignoring the fact that she hated Rita Skeeter and accepting help from her, then she'd reluctantly pay it. Rita would suffer too. Who had it worse? The one needing help from someone she despised, or the one who was forced to help a girl who'd sabotaged her?

Rita let out an aggravated huff of breath. But from the way her bright pink mouth pursed, Hermione could see that sense was slipping into her. She must really want that promotion if she was willing to easily forget her past with the girl. Hermione would still greatly dislike her, though both ladies seemed to give out the silent agreement that they'd be civilized with each other.

"Bloody hell, then" grumbled Ludo. He turned and began to clumsily walk away from the females towards the hall. "Women," they heard him quietly mutter to himself. "I'm checking to see if the potion I asked for is ready yet." He glanced at Blaise, who for the past few minutes, stood completely forgotten. "You. Come with me. Your chamber's this way."

Blaise silently followed Ludo into the hallway, not helping Ludo as he kept stumbling further in.

Hermione and Rita Skeeter stood in silence for a minute as they listened to the men retreat. Then Rita headed to the opposite hallway across the room. Hermione walked after her, guessing she was quietly leading her to her own chamber.

It was only a few yards into the corridor. Rita opened the door to Hermione's room and let her step inside. The room was dark; the curtains were draped closed and candles unlit. But Hermione knew this room was much fancier than her dormitory in the Gryffindor tower. The vague, black shapes in the room indicated it held more furniture.

"Dinner will be ready in a few hours. In the mean time, you may do what you want in here. There's an extra change of clothes in the drawers, wear whatever you'd like." With that, Rita left Hermione in the dim room, shutting the door behind her.

Hermione did not bother changing. She simply fell over on the bed, jerking her legs so her flats were tossed across the room. She heard them faintly _thud_ on the floor as she rolled on her side, not pulling the covers over her body. She knew her behavior out there had been immature and childish, but what was expected? Her anger would have lashed out anyway, and Rita had provoked it then received it. It was nothing compared to how she actually felt, though. They had no idea exactly how much she despised the Capitol. The Hunger Games, the Ministry, all of them. But she'd make herself control that, it will only cause more trouble. All she wanted right now was to steal a few selfish hours for herself. To block out everything and face it when she'd need to. She grabbed a plush pillow and buried her face in it. Soft and fluffy, the fresh, clean scent soothed her and she sighed, closing her eyes. Priorities back home had been set, goodbyes had been told. As she promised, she had to focus and take care of herself. In a few hours she'd start planning, thinking of strategies. But for now, she just wanted to try to think of nothing at all.

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***PLEASE READ* **

A/N: Okay, so the tributes from the other districts will be revealed in the next chapter. In the mean time, I'll still be thinking of other ideas for the arena. I have several ideas, but I feel like I need more blank spaces to fill. So in your review, you may leave any ideas or suggestions of your own. It can be anything magical: Boggarts, Red Caps, Hippogriffs, etc. If I haven't already thought of it, and if I like the suggestion, then I'll use it. And yes, of course I'll give credit to whoever came up with the idea. So review if you have an excellent suggestion, and I'll try to update soon! Thanks! :)


	4. Journey

A/N: Hi everyone! Okay first, I just want to clarify something. _YES. _This is still going to be a _Dramione _fanfic, regardless of what has happened so far. :)

Okay, this chapter is now complete! Part 2 has been _finally_ posted.

To **Kari**: Sorry, I had taken down chapter four for a bit. I kind of just threw it out there without having edited it properly because I thought I wouldn't be able to log in for a while. But I had time this morning so I fixed a few things. : )

Disclaimer: Sadly, Harry Potter and The Hunger Games will never be mine, as much as I love them . . . Only J.K. Rowling and Suzanne Collins have the right to them.

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~. Part 1: Tributes .~

She slept as though she'd drunk a batch of Dreamless Potion beforehand.

How long had it been? Two hours? Three? It felt like two or three minutes when she'd slumped on the bed and shut her eyes. She couldn't recall a single thing her unconscious mind had pulled out for her. Whether it had been the shock or exhaustion, she was glad to have escaped reality for a bit.

Whatever the time was, she knew those sharp knocks on her door was Rita telling her to come out for dinner. Rita kept on impatiently rapping her fist on the wood with no response from Hermione. After a long aggravated moment, the knocking ceased and Rita's pointy heels tapped away.

Hermione slowly sat up in the darkness and blindly patted around the bed to find her wand. She grasped at the thin, wooden stick to cast a soft _Lumos _and found her shoes tossed across the room. Climbing off the slightly-rumpled sheets to retrieve them, she felt the back of her head ache from the tight pins still secured in her hair. But she didn't bother to take them off as she slipped on her shoes and strode out the room. She shut the wooden door behind her, leaving her wand on the bed. The corridor outside her chamber was bright and her stomach gurgled as she followed a delicious scent down to what she assumed was the dining room.

And it was then she wondered just how she would behave in front of the others. They did not count as part of her audience, but they were still the only people who could help her. Dinner with Rita, sitting next to the Slytherin boy, while watching Ludo Bagman get drunk. _Brilliant. _

But regardless of how she felt towards them, she would be civil. Yes, yes she would.

The dining room already held Blaise Zabini in his seat. The other Capitol attendants on the train bustled about, placing delicate dishes on the table. One of them dragged out a chair for Hermione, and she only nodded at him as she sat down. Rita sat across from her, fussing angrily as she poured what looked like wine into a glass. A roll of parchment floated beside her with a long, purple quill perched above it. Hermione remembered how Rita always carried that…_thing_, her annoying Quick-Quotes Quill, everywhere with her, back when she was a popular reporter. Her job mainly soared throughout the Hunger Games, gushing about all the tributes and trying to predict who would most likely win. Now her items merely rested in mid-air, with the tip of the quill waiting for a phrase to scrawl, but having nothing to write.

"Ludo will not be joining us for dinner," she said snippily. Her crimson nails scratched her nose and pushed the jeweled spectacles closer to her eyes. "He is not…feeling well."

He was too drunk to come join them. That much was obvious to Hermione and Blaise's scowl told her he knew it as well. But neither of them commented as they dug into their food. Relieving their hunger felt more urgent than Ludo at the moment. As awful the whole situation was, at least the food was bloody fantastic. The two tributes tried to stuff themselves and eat as much as they could hold. Having seconds or dessert was rare for them back home. Hermione was devouring warm mashed potatoes in her mouth when Rita decided to make small talk.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Rita asked pleasantly. "You get the chance to enjoy all of this," she gestured to the mahogany table before them with all its magnificent food, and the well polished room around them, "even if it's just for a while." she finished.

This caused Hermione to stop her fork midway to her mouth from biting into some roast chicken. Setting the fork down, making a clinking noise that felt too heavy and loud, she stared at Rita's powder-white face. Judging from her expression, it seemed her comment was meant to be harmless. But it had been so thoughtless it was taken offensively. Rita earned a nasty glare from Blaise but became oblivious to it. She did not, however, try to chat up to the tributes for the rest of their dinner.

Once they all finished their meals (not as enjoyable as they first started), the dishes and goblets all levitated themselves in the air and floated down the corridor towards the kitchen. Rita pulled out her wand and flicked it at a marble artifact a few feet across the room. It looked strangely similar to a pensieve. Rita simply murmured _Specialis_ _revelio_, and Hermione recalled reading upon these objects used in the Capitol. They were sometimes used in the districts if one could afford it. The wizards from the Capitol created projections that would cast themselves in the sky, just as they had at the Reaping, and could be displayed anytime with the pensieve. This particular pensieve did not show personal memories. It showed events that were captures in images, or even events happening at the present moment, and could be replayed in the room the pensieve stood in. With Rita's incantation, a silvery mist floated in the air. It was blurry at first, but it sharpened itself and provided a clear, glowing image. Rita's Quick-Quotes Quill glided to her other side as she shifted and turned in her seat to face the pensieve.

Hermione's stomach began to stir. A taste of anxiety overwhelmed everything else she'd just eaten. This was the moment she'd see the faces of the other tributes. Her other twenty-two opponents that would have only one survivor. That was, _if_ it could not be her. She wondered if she would know any of them. It was possible, and she'd recognized several tributes in the past. Sometimes, students gained special permission to leave Hogwarts and move to a different school. A completely different district. It was extremely difficult to earn the privilege, but a very large amount of Galleons would suffice. In her first years at Hogwarts she'd take notice of the older students even if she never spoke to them. She would eventually learn that they were moving away. A few years later, when they'd be on their last years at school, their names were unfortunately picked in the new district they'd moved to. She watched them fight in the Games; she watched them die.

There was such a sense of thinking you could know someone, even though you don't know them at all. Just because she may have seen them daily. Maybe not knowing their names, but recognizing those faces she was simply so _used to_. Subconsciously noticing their routines, their group of friends, their siblings. There was something so disturbing about never anticipating what would happen to them a few years later. An indisputable surprise when you'd never imagined they'd end up where they did. She had seen certain students at her school hundreds of times before, breathing with living flesh, followed by a gap of absence that would last a couple of years, and then there was the shock of seeing the same faces again-drained and lifeless.

Dead.

Hermione sat up a little straighter in her seat, nervously fiddling with her hands. She reached over the table to pour herself another glass of pumpkin juice, hoping the taste may ease her a bit. She glanced at Blaise, rigid and staring fixedly at the images above the pensive, and at Rita, patiently sitting with her legs crossed and sipping her wine.

The pensieve already had the Reapings from all the other districts and would show them in order. Starting with District One to District Twelve. There was at least one district located in each continent of the world, all except Antarctica. So when students moved away or were exchanged, they would normally choose a district with a larger population or better conditions. The bigger the population meant a smaller chance of being chosen at a Reaping. Better conditions meant more jobs and less starvation.

The pensieve first showed them District One, located in France. Each district had its own school, and District One's was Beuxbatons Academy of Magic. They showed the boy tribute first: Vincent Crabbe. Without waiting for Hermione to process this, it flashed onto the girl tribute, Daphne Greengrass. Hermione set down her glass. She knew them, she knew them both. They had only moved away last year! Had moved to a wealthier district . . . and were put in danger anyway. She cringed at the memory of once calling Daphne Greengrass a complete cow. Not to her face, of course, but perhaps that makes it just as shallow. These two Slytherins, even if she did not like them, would have to be dead if she planned to win. Hopefully not on her own accord.

She could hear Rita's purple quill scratch against the parchment rapidly, taking in every detail the pensieve showed. Although not necessary, Rita's note-taking reflected upon how serious she took her job.

It moved onto District Two, Durmstrung in Bulgaria. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the two tributes. This time it showed the girl first, Pansy Parkinson. She pursed her lips briefly considering this opponent. This was someone who had laughed at her, humiliated, and insulted her in the past. How many times had she yearned to be able to confront this girl? To go up against her and prove she wasn't as stupid, worthless, or disgusting as she'd been called? Or to just _Stupefy_ her would have left her satisfied. But not this way. Her hatred for this girl had never been so extreme she'd want to kill her. And then the pensieve showed the boy tribute, who oddly volunteered.

Brave, some may call him? Arrogant, Hermione decided.

Tall, muscular, with fair skin and light brown hair: Cormac McLaggen. He too had once been a student at Hogwarts. A Gryffindor, in fact. This boy had spoken to Hermione before, had been interested actually. Infatuated. Back in fourth year, when people finally saw Hermione step out of her bookish character one night at the Yule Ball, leaving many boys enthralled. Cormac McLaggen had been one of them and confidently went after Hermione thinking she'd be bound to return the same interest. She didn't, of course. And it had infuriated Cormac, who was not used to that type of rejection. Hermione refused to date him; she wasted no time on a boy she knew she wanted nothing of. And so this boy, who could have possibly been her boyfriend, had turned into a rival.

A horrible sinking feeling filled Hermione. _Four_. They had barely shown the first four tributes and she already knew each and every one of them. Each of them were disliked by her and she despised by them. A frightening thought nagged her brain. What if there were more she recognized? In the past, the record for her had been seven students from other districts that she'd watch die, and knowing precisely who they were. But it was a completely different situation to actually compete against them! There were several people who had moved away last year and the year before that, whom she'd found pleasant. What if a friend popped up from another district?

But a quick wave of relief washed through her as they showed District Three. All the way in Italy, the two tributes from there were complete strangers. They seemed to hover around the ages of fifteen and sixteen. Both were very tall, slim, and lanky. In Hermione's opinion, they did not appear very threatening. Especially as the pensieve showed them both bawling their eyes out. But she would not make the mistake of underestimating anyone. For all she knew, they could deliberately be acting weak to have low expectations from everyone. To not cause the other tributes to even bother with them. To be left alone.

District Four, Australia, two other unknown tributes.

But her anxiety returned when the images shifted to District Five. Over in China, Hermione didn't recognized the young boy, but she knew exactly who the girl was.

Cho Chang.

This seventeen-year old girl . . . pretty, popular, former Ravenclaw, and once her best friend's old girlfriend. Hermione had even _encouraged_ and helped Harry to go out with Cho! Thankfully, their relationship awkwardly ended before it could turn into anything too serious. But that wasn't the point. It meant another person she'd have to face. Maybe even fight….

The unease grew as they moved onto India in District Six. A young boy who was not familiar, and Padma Patil representing the girl tribute. The former Ravenclaw looked identical to her twin, Parvati, who Hermione shared a dormitory with back home. She recalled arriving at Hogwarts a few days ago and hearing Parvati tell Lavender and Dean about her sister moving away. Parvati had _insisted_ that Padma move away first while she remained at Hogwarts for another year. Hermione suddenly felt very commiserated for Parvati. If she were her, she'd feel extremely guilty for letting her sister slip into this mess, even if it may have been unintentional.

It all went very quickly for Hermione then.

District Seven, Brazil, a fifteen-year old along with Michael Corner.

District Eight, Africa, and District Nine, Russia, both had tributes that were foreign to her. The four of them centered around the ages between fourteen to seventeen.

But District Ten was another blow for Hermione. Seamus Finnigan and Katie Bell from Ireland. Two Gryffindors she knew . . . People she liked, people she'd considered friends.

And finally, District Eleven. It was probably this district that stabbed at Hermione's mind the most. Yes, it was unfortunate to see that the district from the United States had fourteen-year old Dennis Creevey as boy tribute, but it was the girl that sparked a more curious and faint recognition.

She was tiny. Easily the smallest and surely the youngest. Age equivalent to a first year. Petite with a willowy frame, fair skinned, and with long, silvery-blond hair. She reminded her of a fairy. The kind in fairy tales she'd read about and seen in her muggle childhood books. Her lovely face looked _so_ familiar . . . A vague name itched on her tongue. Hermione was sure she'd seen her before. Or perhaps someone who looked just like her, but older. . .

And then they said her name. Gabrielle Delacour.

It all clicked in place. Hermione had only seen this girl once a few years ago. When her older sister, Fleur, took part of the Triwizard Tournament and faced the challenge of the second task. That had been the only time she'd seen this Gabrielle before. The resemblance between the sisters was as obvious as identifying a Weasley.

Fleur Delacour was one of the most beautiful and famous witches in the Capitol. If her victory in the Hunger Games didn't draw people to her, her beauty did. But this little girl . . . she was just a child. She looked so small and defenseless, what does she stand against the monstrous boys of District One and Two? Cormac and Crabbe could so easily crush her with their bare hands. Or what about everything horrid waiting in the arena? Sometimes there's no need for a tribute to hunt you down when there's something else that can snatch you.

Here was Hermione, fretting over what little chance she'll have in the Games, when clearly there were others who had bigger concerns. Children who will never grow to be more than that.

But when you think of it, they were _all _children either way.

The pensieve briefly showed the Reaping for Hermione and Blaise. Lychorinda Granger being called out followed by the beseeching screams from Hermione. It was so obvious; without a doubt, of how desperate she was to save Lychorinda. The way she frantically shoved the Peacekeepers aside to reach for her sister. This year's District Twelve's Reaping was the oddest. A volunteer, two tributes from two opposing houses, and the strange gesture from the crowd. Rita pursed her lips into a thin line when the pen sieve's images showed Ludo Bagman diving off the stage.

"_How_ I ended up with _him_ as a my partner…" she murmured quietly to herself.

"Don't you mean how did _we_ end up with him as our _mentor_?" Blaise asked scathingly. He almost spilled wine from the bottle he held as he tried to pour it carefully in his glass. Hermione just took notice how Blaise was not handling all of this as maturely as they both should be. He hadn't lashed out the way she did towards Rita, but it seemed his anger and frustration was starting to seep through.

Rita slowly turned to look at him. "He's the only mentor you have. Or more like, the only one still alive." She reached over and snatched the bottle from his hand. She brought it to her colored lips and gulped down a long, hearty chug. She scowled slightly when she met Hermione's eye, but kept contact. "Not to worry, though, handsome face." Another swig. "You've still got me."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

It was past curfew, but it was his turn to patrol the corridors tonight.

He ambled through the school, hearing nothing and finding nothing. But Umbridge had demanded he stay up as long as necessary to be able to find the wanderer. Apparently, someone had tipped off Umbridge that a student roamed the castle at night, and that he or she secretly took part of unauthorized rule-breaking.

He had searched over an hour and found no one lingering in the hallways. Umbridge told him to stroll by the kitchen, for she suspected the student might be stealing undeserved food. Her main suspect was Potter, but it wouldn't make sense for him to be taking extra food. Unless he was stealing for others… Other than that, what other reason would a student risk getting caught here after hours? For what motive did he or she performed these nightly activities? There'd be nothing to find here in the castle. Too many Peacekeepers and members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

And then a new thought occurred to him. What if he or she didn't linger _inside _the castle? What if it was outside he should be searching? But it seemed preposterous, though. There are less Peacekeepers outside during this hour, but even less to find of anything else. Why would anyone be outside? But he'd be damned if it turned out he'd been wasting his time in here. And he was getting sick of walking up and down the same corridors for the past hour and a half.

He descended the large staircase of the main entrance, heading to the courtyard. And when he stepped into the harsh coldness of the night, the wind sent pleasant shivers down his spine. He didn't cast a Warming Charm around him as he paced around the stone floor. The breeze helped his senses remain sharp. He walked all through the courtyard and still found nothing. After about another half hour, he had stopped searching and absentmindedly began to count the large cracks in the pavement. Lethargy had distracted him from his duty. He would have abandoned his post and simply gone to bed by now, but something in the back of his mind nagged him to stay for just a little longer. If he left now Umbridge would be irritated with him, but she probably wouldn't him punished. Although it would be quite satisfying if he was the one to catch the absconder. Especially if it really was Potter. Or maybe the Weasel, trying to scavenge for leftovers of food.

Several more minutes passed when he suddenly halted to a stop. . . and the sound of footprints didn't. It had been for just a second, when he'd paused and heard a pair of feet still walking elsewhere. It may have been a soft echo here in the lonely courtyard, but he could swear that sound coming from behind him was heavy breathing.

He whipped around and saw he was still the only one here. Just plain darkness in front of him. He cast a bright _Lumos_, but the glow did not help reveal anything. And then he remembered Potter had an invisibility cloak. Of course that would help him evade the Peacekeepers, he'd completely forgotten about that significant detail. It meant Potter was near, he had to be. He knew he hadn't imagined the noise.

The spell he'd cast must have been a warning for the absconder. Potter may be lingering just a few yards away from him, but he may not want to risk running for fear of being heard. So instead, he dimmed the glow from his wand until it vanished completely and stood there in darkness, listening intently. The student probably didn't posses a wand. If the student or Potter had it, surely they could've just _Petrified_ him by now and ran? When he heard no sign of anyone attempting to flee, he slowly began to take a few steps back. He was practically blind. He strained his ears to catch the sound of another soul breathing nearby. Nothing.

If he stood there any longer, Potter might escape whether Draco heard him or not - if he hadn't escaped already. With a frustrated grunt, Draco stalked over to the spot he'd heard someone's soft breath reach his ears.

And there it was again. The lightest sound of feet padding away on the pavement, and if he hadn't looked over his shoulder he wouldn't have caught the sight from the corner of his eye. Not a cloak. It was hair, long and thick that had whished in air, as the absconder rose to flee. A girl. Not Potter, and he was positive the silhouette belonged to a female.

He heard her stumble, and a soft, pained gasp as she tripped on the floor. Idiot girl. She had no chance of escaping now. He took the opportunity to advance on her. He could hear her trying to scramble back on her feet, but it sounded like she was struggling too much too even manage that. He was close enough he could see the shape of her shadow, and without thinking he pointed his wand in her direction.

"_Lumos Maxima!" _he shouted. The spell illuminated the whole corridor. It sparked the area where he stood in the courtyard. She was caught and he wasn't about to let her escape. There _was _no escape. Light glowed upon her face, making her easy to identify, but he was left stunned at who he saw.

His malicious grin dropped from his face and shock came to fill it in.

"_Granger?" _

She must have thought it'd be Umbridge, or a Peacekeeper, or perhaps a teacher. She stared up at him, completely defenseless and as surprised as he was. On the floor, without a wand and looking so vulnerable, she looked as pathetic as he's called her all these years. He certainly hadn't been expecting _her. _In fact, she'd be the last person he'd have thought would be outside past curfew. The Mudblood bookworm who never broke any of the rules. What was she doing out here then?

He cocked an eyebrow and watched her slightly wince as she placed her pale hand over her thigh. A deep gash had ripped open her skin there with blood oozing out. The filthy rag that was hastily tied over it did nothing to hide the crimson stains. She was biting her lip, her face contorted in a way that tried not to reveal any of her pain. And her expression made his eyes notice the other scratches scraped across her cheeks, her forehead, her chin. She was wearing muggle clothing. Dark and tight that it clung to her skin so it helped her easily blend in with the night. Wasn't enough this time, apparently.

"Not as clever as you think you are," he breathed.

Her eyes widened a bit as she came to realize how much trouble she'd tangled herself in. The brown irises reflected her panic, but it only lasted a second. It was just something that flashed in her eyes once. Then her jaw tightened and clenched in defiance. She opened her lips to snap something back at him, but another faint glow in the distance stopped her.

"Draco!" screeched the toad. "Draco, what's happened? Have you caught him?"

He could see Umbridge approaching. In the faint light formed on the other side, he saw she was not alone. At least three other Peacekeepers followed behind her. She led them towards Draco's spot but her waddling legs probably slowed them all down.

He turned to cast another look at Granger who was staring straight ahead at her inevitable doom. What would they do to her? Expel her? That probably _would_ be the most tormenting punishment for her. This was Granger. Expulsion would scar her life as permanently as the one on Potter's forehead. But Umbridge was not going to make anything that simple. Granger wasn't out after hours because she'd been sleepwalking. No, there was no excuse good enough that would help her. She had to been doing something she couldn't do in the daytime. Something unauthorized and maybe even illegal. And whatever that was would cause her to be in so much trouble that she must have decided it was safest to risk it all during night.

"_Draco!" _The footsteps were getting louder, closer.

He glanced back at Granger. She kept staring straight ahead looking almost… calm. As though she had accepted this. This was how things were going to go for her. Only a small crinkle between her eyebrows could show that bit of fear he knew she must be feeling right then. She raised her gaze to stare back at him, and his breath slightly faltered. That look in those eyes…he couldn't define it. There was no hatred, no anger, no accusation. She wasn't even giving him any silent plea to help her. But…there was something painful about staring into the eyes of this girl, and knowing he was bringing calamity to her.

He looked down at the gash in her thigh, her hand covering it was colored with her blood. It must have hurt a lot, to the point she couldn't escape anymore. It was the sight of it, her blood seeping out that brought a new thought to him. Umbridge was going to punish her in her own way.

_This will be nothing. Nothing compared to what is coming for you. _

Danger and pain. Doom and misery. Fear and anguish. It wasn't coming for her, _he_ was bringing it _to_ her.

And what he did then was something he may never understand.

The light radiating from his wand dimmed as he took quick and long strides towards Umbridge. He hurried his pace, trying to look urgent when walking wasn't fast enough. His wand illuminated again, but this time he pointed it to a far corridor at the west side of the courtyard, west of the castle.

"There!" he shouted. "I heard him! Saw his shadow running towards that direction!"

Umbridge didn't wait any longer. "Well don't just stand here! _Get him!_" She barked at the Peacekeepers.

They all started running, not even waiting for Draco to lead the way, but he followed behind them anyway. The Peacekeepers sprinted ahead with him trailing behind and Umbridge waddling several yards back. Of course there was no one to be found, but they continued to search over the grounds. Umbridge was getting frustrated they would lose him. A Peacekeeper suggested they all quickly split and cover different areas across the grounds. Umbridge was furious they hadn't caught the student yet. She demanded Draco who it was.

He said he didn't know.

He didn't see the face. He couldn't tell who it was. He declared he thought the student was a boy. Just because that's what the shadow looked like. And of course Umbridge didn't doubt his answers, despite being irritated that he couldn't describe more. But the student being described as a boy increased her suspicions of Potter. Perhaps they'll be questioning him in the morning. Honestly, this idea didn't mind him at all.

They all hurried to try and find the absconder, the Peacekeepers and Umbridge taking separate paths.

But Draco returned to the spot he'd found her at. And when he approached, only empty space was left.

Of course she had left by then. About ten minutes had passed since he'd led Umbridge and the Peacekeepers away, giving her plenty of time to run. Or limp. There was nothing here and he should be going back to find Umbridge, or perhaps ask if he could go back to his dormitory. He hated standing here and lingering any longer would force him to ask himself those inevitable questions he really didn't want to think about. So he turned and was about to dim the glow from his wand when something on the floor caught his eye.

Scarlet drops of blood-_her_ blood- were marking the stone ground. Evidence.

For a moment he did nothing but stare at the droplets, truly perplexed by the sight of them. Just red fluid. Of course it was stupid to think anyone's blood contained actual _dirt_ in it, but it didn't stop one from wondering.

Just. Red.

He made himself snap out of it and pointed his wand over that precise spot.

"_Scourgify," _he murmured.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

~. Part 2: Mentor .~

Rita Skeeter was _not_ the best person to have dinner with on your journey to death.

After watching all the Reapings, Blaise had abruptly stood up and left. Rita Skeeter ignored that and started discussing the twenty-two other tributes- more to herself rather than with Hermione. This year apparently had a stronger batch, or so she stated. She speculated and analyzed everyone, all the while drinking wine to keep her calm. Hermione wondered if her team were all a crew of drunks. Rita didn't seem to be, but she fussed too much and her nerves and stress were no comfort for her.

So she politely excused herself and walked away, Rita's violet quill hanging in midair accidentally brushing her face and the tip point poking her cheek. She batted it away with her hand and went through the hallway, back to her chamber.

Shutting the door, she leaned back and stood there for a long moment. She was so still she could faintly feel the smooth movement of the train. This Capitol train, so swift and elegant it had to be enchanted. Perhaps without wheels. Another advanced creation by District Six.

Hermione strode over to the other side of the room and ripped the curtains open. The train moved too fast for her eyes to be able to find something solid outside, but the moon was still there. Same place in the night sky, right where she saw it every night back home, and she'll still be able to see it in the Capitol and in the arena.

She sighed and uncrossed her arms. Glaring out a window doesn't stop time. Thinking of nothing doesn't pause anything. It makes it all come quicker. So she carefully peeled off her dress and smoothed out the crinkles as she folded it. She opened a drawer and rummaged for something comfortable. She found a pair of short, light pants made of some soft, unfamiliar fabric. Then she pulled on the first shirt her hand felt and slipped into the pants before climbing into the bed. Grabbed the sheets and wrapped them around herself, resting her head on a plush pillow.

She wondered how many other tributes were in this same position. All of them from different parts of the world, on a train and heading to the Capitol as well. She didn't care that she'd taken a nap earlier and it was too early for sleep. Unconsciousness had helped her before and she needed it now.

Her body was numb but her head was screaming.

Is this what every tribute felt? Is this how Blaise felt right now? Was he locked in his chamber just thinking and thinking of how he would survive all of this? Because if so, that meant he'd have to kill _her. _And if she planned to win, she'd have to kill the boy breathing a few yards down the hallway.

Which led her to think of the _other _twenty-tributes. Out of the whole batch she knew eleven of them and Blaise. Literally half.

Perhaps if she just stayed out of the action, she could avoid killing. But not killing at all would be impossible. Even if she managed to waltz around the edges she'd have to eventually come face to face with someone. Or she'd be ambushed. Or if she survived as part of the remaining two, she'd have to eliminate the last tribute anyway.

But _could _she last? How far in would she make it? Rita could analyze the other tributes as much as she'd want, and she still wouldn't know them. But Hermione did. She _did_ know twelve of them. Had spoken to them, gone to class with, and observed all twelve of them. These were not strangers.

Cho Chang, Padma Patil, and Michael Corner had all been Ravenclaws - and exceptionally intelligent students. But _she _wasnamed Brightest witch of her Age. And in her head there was Harry's voice telling her she just had to outsmart the others. Even those tributes who were already too smart themselves. Outwit the clever.

As for Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass? Did they each have a brain for their own? She'd never thought so. In fact, she'd nicknamed the Greengrass girl as _Daft Daphne _in her mind - but she'd never dared to voice the offense out loud. And Pansy . . . Pansy had been named Slytherin Prefect last year. Whether her friends were all clueless, it didn't necessarily mean she was too. There had to be a reason she was chosen. The title of being made a Prefect was meaningless to some, but Hermione believed there was something significant about being chosen. Exceeding grades . . . cooperative with others . . . an excellent representative and definition of their house . . . _leadership. _

Whatever the reason, something told her that Pansy was smarter and nastier than what she'd always seemed to be. Her name-calling and insults was just her language.

Then there was Crabbe and Cormac to consider. Those boys were monstrous in size. Enormous and bulky and everything else in between. They could probably kill her with their bare hands. These monstrous boys could be a challenge. But was muscle worth against intelligence? A hex from her wand, a shot from a bow and arrow. . .

Seamus and Katie, her old friends . . . Collin's younger brother, Dennis . . . No, she could never hurt them, and she prayed that even upon the promise she'd made to her sister, she wouldn't be forced to eliminate them.

Especially the little girl, Gabrielle Delacour. It was this tribute that horrified Hermione the most. Not because she seemed threatening, but her being Reaped haunted her thoughts and reminded her too much of how close that could've been Lye.

With a frustrated sigh, she rolled over to her other side and buried her face deeper into her pillow. It was the thought of her sister that made her eyes wet. This would be a fine time to cry, but the tears were not a problem anymore. They did not spill over her cheeks, and she knew she wouldn't wake up with a puffy face.

What were they all doing back at Hogwarts? Probably trying to comfort each other, giving empty reassurances that she would return. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and all the other Weasleys . . . Saying that they would see her soon. Oh, they _would. _Definitely tomorrow, at least for the Opening Ceremony.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what the time was at her school, but it must be late enough there for students to have gone to bed. Mostly everyone would be celebrating _their_ safety . . . but Lye? Was she alone in her Hufflepuff dormitory? Would she be sleeping with Ginny tonight? Were Harry and Ron keeping watch over her? Who would tuck her in bed? Who would sing her to sleep?

Her mind went back to early this morning. Lye's nightmares had her screaming awake. . . they'd probably do her the same for tomorrow's sunrise. There were very few things that could truly comfort her during these terrifying moments.

"_Can you sing the other one?" interrupted Lye. "The new one?"_

"_It's not finished yet, though." said Hermione, perplexed._

"_That doesn't matter," murmured Lye. _

She glanced over at the window. The only light that seeped through the room was the faint glow from the silver moon. And Hermione could just make out the tiny specks of light dotted across the black sky.

"Song in the night . . . will ease your fright," she whispered. "Raise your wand . . . and cast one bright."

She closed her eyes and breathed out a thoughtful sigh. Searched her mind for another line.

_Sink into your bed, it will all soon end . . ._

"I promise you're safe . . . they can take me instead," she mumbled.

And she continued to softly hum the rest of the lyrics to herself. Creating pointless rhymes that might never be shared with Lye again. And then after a long hour or two, sleep began to crawl on her. She was on the brink of shutting her eyes for good until morning when a different song whispered itself into her head. Words that she'd always thought were haunting, but now in this case, very fitting.

_It's so quiet here,_

_and I feel so cold _

_This place no longer,_

_feels like home . . ._

_._

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

Draco started himself awake.

Oddly out of breath, all clammy and sticky with the bed sheets clinging onto his skin, he'd shot himself out of the dream.

Not a dream. A memory.

Granger came back to slap him in the face again. Not with her own hand, but with the memory that has haunted him for the past year. He had tried to not think of it yesterday, as he'd watched her leave with Blaise. Had tried so hard to block it out, it ended up forcing itself into his dreams.

He sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. His other hand was slightly trembling in his lap, and he clenched it into a fist to control the twitching.

Draco could still remember a single thought that always seemed to echo back at him.

Her. Covered in her own filthy blood and wounded on the ground. Trapped. Blocked. Vulnerable.

_It must have hurt a lot, to the point where she couldn't escape anymore. _

He still had those same _sodding_ questions that were left unanswered. And he was afraid they would be left that way. Always pestering him, nagging him, making him doubt everything, and driving him mad.

Why had he done it? Why had his instinct driven him into helping _her? _Why didn't he just turn her in? Why didn't he just walk away?

_Because I felt sorry for you; I pitied you._

_Because it was too easy. There are better- more humiliating and amusing- ways to get rid of mudbloods. _

_Because if I were in your place, you would have done the same. _

No. None of them were valid reasons. Each one was a poorer excuse than the one before. He had tried to convince himself otherwise, but even blurry lies start to melt. Except for that last one. It held just a small taste of truth in it. If he were the one in that situation, found by Granger, would she have turned him in? He didn't think so. She may despise him, but Draco knew Granger wasn't so spiteful as to do something as cruel. But there was one more question left. Sharp and definite, and hovering on its own.

Did he regret it? Was he ashamed of helping her? Saving Granger, the mudblood.

That was the worst part. He honestly didn't know. And this is what burned inside his skull- the fact that he couldn't even feel any disgust or shame for what he'd done for her.

He pushed his damp hair away from his face and cracked his sore neck to the side. His skin pricked with goosebumps and salty sweat and he craved a bath. A hot bath and a meal to shake off the nightmare. Because it did not matter what he'd done that night. He would never be able to take it back, but it was all thrown away to her recent event anyway.

Granger was gone. She would probably never return. He wouldn't have to glance at her everyday and remember that night. And she wouldn't have to pretend he hadn't saved her either. But in a way, he was grateful she never mentioned it. The last thing he wanted was the gratitude of a mudblood.

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><p>.<p>

Hermione twirled the small golden pin between her fingers and observed how it sparked when it caught the room's light. It was actually rather pretty. The phoenix poised in the center of the circular shape, wings spread out, about to take flight. So miniature and detailed, she admired how carefully crafted it was. She almost wished she'd left it home for Lye or Ginny. It could be worth a small fortune.

She'd had the oddest dream last night. It was one of those dreams that felt like she wasn't a part of this world, or any particular reality. Like she didn't exist. She stood watching on the sidelines, and that really was all she could do. Just watch. It was as if she had no voice, and her body felt like it'd been _Petrified_. She'd stood helpless and watched the Reaping playing out again. Lye was chosen, and since no one else was there to protect her, the Peacekeepers dragged her to the stage. That was another thing. Hermione knew they were supposed to be Peacekeepers, but instead she saw Luscious Malfoy and Dolohov by her sister's sides.

It mostly seemed quite vague. Because as far as Hermione could tell, her sister avoided the fights. Up until she met another fellow tribute. Which was the bizarre part of the dream. Lye had created an alliance with Gabrielle Delacour. It appeared more than an alliance, whereas the two girls considered themselves friends. But then the dream turned into a nightmare when Lye and Gabrielle Delacour were miraculously the only tributes left, and they stood with several yards of space in between them on large meadow with tall, swaying grass.

The two eleven-year-olds stared at each other, hesitant.

She sighed and dropped her hand. As odd as the dream was, it was very close to having come true. Perhaps not the part of Lye living up to being one of the last two, but the reality in which she'd come very close to being the one on this train. Sitting in _this _chair, clutching her wand, and waiting for her Mentor to show up with the boy tribute sitting two feet away from her.

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her green shirt while trying to stealthily sneak a glance at him. She noticed a large golden locket attached to a long, golden chain was hanging on his chest. The locket had an _S_ carved into it, and something of a memory flickered in her brain.

Blaise was, as usual, silent. He hadn't said a word for the past ten minutes in which they'd been waiting for Ludo. He'd sat there, completely calm, while Hermione tapped her foot on the carpet, drummed her fingers on her armrest, and fidgeted in every other small way as she waited impatiently.

She didn't blame him for having stormed off last night. It was nothing compared to the short row she'd had with Rita Skeeter. But she wondered if Blaise's anger was bottling up inside him. She didn't think he'd bawled his eyes out last night, but surely he was more than upset with the whole situation. Would he burst out right now? Now that they would soon arrive in the Capitol and Ludo Bagman does nothing but waste himself?

The most she'd ever seen of Ludo before was him gambling with others of District 12 and drinking until he was dead to the world. But he was still her Mentor. _Their _Mentor. Maybe if they respected him, or at least acted pleasant towards him, he'd be willing to help. That wouldn't happen if Blaise was going to explode in his face. She just needed him to cooperate too. Give him a nudge.

She inhaled a slow breath through her nose, and turned to look at him. "Have you met him . . . Ludo?"

He didn't even acknowledge her and Hermione suddenly felt very awkward.

And then it struck her that Blaise didn't even like her. What if he was on the same page as Rita? Thinking she would ruin their chances of any sponsors and she was incapable of being a decent tribute. That stung a bit because she hardly knew Blaise, but thought there'd never be any grudges or hostility. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd be willing to accept help from Ludo. So she brushed off his cold attitude and reluctantly tried again.

"Listen . . ." she began slowly, "I'm not very fond of him either. Never have been. . . But . . . he's all we have right now. The only shot we'll get."

Before she could say more, the door in front of the room slid open and Rita Skeeter stepped in. She was dressed as colorful as ever, with her shiny spectacles and polished nails. And when she spoke she sounded sober as she always did.

"Come to the dining room," she said smoothly, "Breakfast is ready for us."

Blaise and Hermione stood and made to follow her.

"Is he ready for us?" Blaise asked behind her.

Rita pursed her lips. "He isn't seeing stars if that's what you're asking."

Ludo had already started eating when they walked in. "Ahoy, there" was all he'd muttered. He was wearing the same clothes from last night and his ashy blond hair was sticking up in weird places, but he seemed fine. The three sat down and Hermione and Blaise immediately dug in. They ate quietly for a few minutes and even Rita didn't bother to make small talk. But Ludo surprised Hermione by being the first to speak.

"So," he said, and she hated that there was still a hint of a slur in his voice. "You're the Slytherin, he's from Gryffindor, eh?"

Hermione's eyes widened a bit and she glanced at Blaise who had arched an eyebrow.

"No," she said flatly.

"Don't wear green then," he replied, pointing to her shirt.

They were silent again, and this was nagging Hermione but Blaise stepped in before she could.

"You're supposed to help us," he said evenly. Hermione noticed his fists were clenched tightly. "So help us. Give us advice."

Ludo chuckled as he slurped into his goblet, and then he let out a short belch that stunk of Firewhiskey. Hermione saw from the corner of her eye that Rita's lips thinned into a fine line. She seemed just as annoyed.

"How's this?" Ludo questioned, "Stay alive." And he began to chortle again until he was sputtering out his drink, not noticing no one thought his little joke was amusing. Rita was glaring at him too.

"Hilarious," hissed Blaise. And then he was suddenly on his feet and he knocked over the goblet from Ludo's hand and the plates were scraped off the table with his arm. Firewhiskey splattered everywhere and Rita jumped in her seat.

Ludo was frozen for a moment, his hand still in midair as though he was still grasping his goblet. He cocked an eyebrow and his lips were tugged into a half-amused smirk. Then his hand flew to his pocket and he flicked his wand at the plate in front of Blaise, causing it to lift itself and smash into Blaise's face.

Rita cried out something, something Hermione didn't hear because she whipped out her own wand to point towards Ludo. She was infuriated. This morning she'd been wasting her time thinking that if she was "pleasant" towards Ludo he'd be willing to help. Stupid assumption. And Blaise had known that too.

"_Stupefy!" _Ludo was heaved backwards, where he collided against the wall and the delicate plates that were piled up in stacks crashed onto the floor. Watching him bash his head on the wall and stumble to the ground, watching all the plates shatter around him, gave Hermione an unexpected satisfaction. She was wrong, it wasn't Blaise's cooperation that she needed. But she didn't have to _convince_ Ludo to help her. She shouldn't have to try to impress him. He was _supposed_ to help them! He was supposed to give his best efforts to guide them into the Games!

"Enough!" screamed Rita, "Stop this at once!" She had taken out her own wand and was pointing it at Blaise who looked like he was about to strike at Ludo again.

But Ludo was getting up from the floor, laughing merrily, and the moment felt so bizarre it caused Hermione and Blaise to hold their ground. Ludo waved his hand lazily at Rita, trying to tell her to lower her wand and back off.

"Calm down Skeeter," he assured her. "It's not me they need to kill. They know that."

Two of the Capitol train attendants suddenly came bustling in, probably alarmed from all the racket they'd caused.

Rita took a second to recover herself. "Everything's alright. Nothing to see here, just-just the tributes wanted to, er, demonstrate something for their Mentor." They both stared at where Ludo stood, shocked and nervous. But Rita shooed them away with more lofty words of assurance and the attendants left, saying they would be back later to clean up the mess.

Ludo was brushing off shard pieces of white plates when he looked up and glared at Hermione.

"You can lower your wand now, girl."

Hermione barely realized she still had her wand raised defensively, and she reluctantly let her arm fall to her side.

"Will you look at that, Miss Skeeter? Seems like I got a pair of tributes this year who know how to use their wands."

He slumped into his seat and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Rita sighed heavily but sat down in her seat once more and Blaise and Hermione slowly followed. Rita passed a clean, white cloth to Blaise and he used it to wipe his face. On a normal day, somewhere back at Hogwarts or the Burrow, Hermione might have laughed at the food on Blaise's face. It had been splattered in certain places, almost perfectly over his eyebrows and chin.

"Well, I've gotten bright kids in the past before," said Ludo. "Sad thing is they never make it that far to _use_ their wands. Always die within the first few days, gone by the first week for sure, all 'cause they don't know how to survive without magic-"

"So then tell us how to survive," Hermione persisted. "Tell us what we need to do in the arena to last long enough. What do we do if we encounter another tribute weaponless? Is it best to flee or-"

"I got the notion since yesterday that you're one of those people who has an excessive use with their mouths." Ludo grumbled. "And that there, is the first thing you need to learn. You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut in the Capitol. Understand this girlie; you're gonna meet people who will blabber on offensively. Some will try to rile you up on purpose. They find it funny. You're a new face this year. A new tribute they get to gush over. If they do, then you're lucky."

"How would that make me _lucky?_"

"Because it means they noticed you. You spark some interest. Now if you and Billy here-"

"Blaise," contradicted the other tribute.

"Right," said Ludo glancing at him, "If you both behave from now until the arena, I'll do my best to help you. I've gotten people who come here and they look like they're ready to dig up their graves themselves. You two seem to at least have a chance."

His comment tugged a bit of hope inside Hermione, and she thought it was irrelevant since the compliment came from Ludo Bagman, of all people. But this man was a Victor. He'd been through the same thing and lived. He'd won. And he _could_ be of good help, if he kept his head on.

"You'll need to stop drinking then. A Mentor who isn't even sober won't do us any good," she said.

Ludo's blue eyes met Hermione's. He stared at her for a moment, studying her. He'd said she talked too much for her own good. She wondered what other notion he'd gotten from her. After _Stupefying_ him he must have thought she was easily angered. But he had better not think of her as a weakling. She'd eagerly hex him again if she had to prove it.

"Alright," he said finally. "I'll do my part if you do yours. Remember, not another dicky word. I don't care what they say to you. You bite your tongue until it bleeds. It isn't worth snapping back at them. You can kill as much as you want in the arena." He looked at Blaise. "That goes for you too. First thing tributes do is meet their stylists. You both know those people have their stupid fashions. They're gonna see you like their own piece of raw dragon meat, and you're gonna hate it, but you better let them do their jobs. They at least know what the audience like. Humor the others, and I'll give you both the pointers you'll need. Understood?"

It all sounded awful. The Capitol's fashion had always struck Hermione as gruesome. But Ludo seemed to know what he was talking about, and Hermione realized that all he was really asking was for them to trust him. After sharing a quick look with Blaise, Hermione nodded.

"Good-o," said Ludo. "We'll be arriving soon-"

"In just a few minutes, actually." said Rita quietly, and then the train passed through what could only be a tunnel.

The dining room they all stood in was suddenly shadowed, and they were quiet enough to hear the wind whisking by outside. Hermione slowly put her wand in her pocket and walked to the nearest window. A moment later, she could feel Blaise standing beside her.

The train flew past the last curve and shot out at the exit. The room was immediately filled with sunlight and the world outside the glass window wasn't just miles of deserted land anymore. Hermione couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped her lips. Even Blaise made a slight sound of awe. The Capitol city, it's structure, it's landscape, was truly glorious. Utterly incredible and magnificent. This was the place she'd read about so much. But not even the pictures she'd encountered in books or newspapers had captured its beauty.

Such a beautiful place . . . to be the home of monsters.

"Welcome to the Capitol," said Ludo bitterly.

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><p>.<p>

A/N: Someone told me that since I'd combined the first couple of chapters, and if you'd already reviewed for one chapter, you can't review for that same chapter again. :( But I think you can still review anonymously . . . Anyway, thank you for all the reviews I've received so far. They motivate me to write more (and update faster, haha).

To the anon who was a bit confused with the scene of Draco and Hermione, if it really happened or not, I hope reading Part Two has clarified it for you. :)

Those lyrics at the end that Hermione remembered, the ones that she felt were suited for her (not the song for Lye), are lyrics form _So Cold _by Ben Cocks. I think that song and _Born to Die _by Lana Del Rey are fitting for this chapter. :)

**Next Chapter: The tributes meet their stylists and attend the Opening Ceremony on the chariots. **


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